


Burning

by MythicallySnappy



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Camping, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Kissing, M/M, Public Nudity, Recreational Drug Use, Tarot, palmistry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:33:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4801337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicallySnappy/pseuds/MythicallySnappy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two men take a whirlwind vacation on a whim to the wild and bewitching Burning Man Festival in the Black Rock Desert of Nevada.  There's something in the dust that changes their perception of other people, each other, and transforms the relationship between them.</p><p>  <i>Friend.  Brother.  Soulmate.  Lover.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> I've never been to Burning Man. However, I wanted this fic to feel real, so I spent days researching the festival before writing. I tried to use the information provided by the crew in the GMMore episode 'Let's Go to Burning Man!' as baseline knowledge for this fic, so go watch that if you haven't seen it yet. I'd also suggest doing a quick Google image search of 'Black Rock City' to get a basic idea of the general layout of the city.
> 
> I'd also like to extend a huge shout out and thank you to my BFF Sarah for being a fantastic beta reader, giving me feedback every step of the way and sharing my enthusiasm for this story.
> 
>  
> 
> **A note to first time readers: as of March 15, 2017, I'm doing a (slow but thorough) edit of this fic. In it's current state, this might read differently depending which chapter you're on. I'm hoping to finish editing at some point, but honestly who knows when that'll be.**  
>   
>  [[x](http://sixmoment.com/burninggirl)]  
> 

**DAY ONE**  
_Sunday, August 30th_

     “We’re on the home stretch now, brother.” Rhett nudged his sleeping companion in the ribs with his elbow as he steered their silver FJ Cruiser onto Gate Road, finally entering the Black Rock Desert. Link blinked groggily as he peered out the window, watching the rugged foothills of the Sierra Nevada gradually opening up to the vast alkali white silt of a barren lake bed. He yawned as he addressed his partner.  
     “How much longer?”  
     “Less than an hour, I think.”

     The pair had left their motel in Reno at first light to beat the crowds to Black Rock City. Link had spent an extra ten minutes in the wash that morning, revelling in the last hot shower he’d likely have for more than a week. Rhett was vibrating with excitement the whole drive up, pressing on the gas a bit too hard, eager to set up camp and sample life off of the grid. He spent the next forty-five minutes tapping the steering wheel with his fingertips to the imaginary beat of drums as they sped through the desert.

     “Look Link! We’re here!” Rhett exclaimed. The Cruiser slowly came to a halt behind a dozen vehicles at the gate to the makeshift town. “Got your ticket?” Link pulled the paper from his wallet and played with the edges with nervous elation.  
     “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he said.  
     “What d’you mean? This is the free life! No phones, no computers, just you and me and seventy-thousand free spirits in the desert! This is gonna be amazing, brother!” Rhett gestured wildly as he chided his partner.  
     “Yeah, yeah you’re right. This’ll be fun.” Link let a small smile slip, adjusted his glasses, and agreed.

     The cars inched forward as white, blowing sediment collected along their windshield wipers. A tanned, blonde woman in a cowboy hat and halter top walked up to the driver’s side as Rhett rolled down his window. She leaned in with her elbows on the ledge and shot the men an infectious grin.  
     “Welcome to Burning Man, fellas. Welcome home.” She collected their passes, and gave the two a map and directions to the best place to set up camp. “Have fun guys. And remember,” she smiled, “you are exactly where you need to be.”

     The pair exchanged eager smiles as the Cruiser pulled forward and followed the procession into Black Rock City. They decided to settle down toward the back of the giant semi-circle of curved, concentric streets and avenues, supposedly the furthest away from the loudest stages and events.  
     “Think this’ll do?” Rhett asked.  
     “I guess so. Looks about as good as anywhere else,” Link replied, scanning the arid playa. A few tents speckled the landscape, but the vast majority of festival goers had yet to arrive. Rhett put their vehicle in park and they stepped onto the hot silt of the lake bed, gusts of white dust billowing over them. Rhett squinted and pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose.  
     “I didn’t think the dust would be this bad right away,” he remarked. “Do you have those bandanas?” Link nodded and pulled his backpack out from the back seat of the car. He rooted around, tossing Rhett a square of red cloth, while keeping a blue one for himself. They folded the fabric diagonally and helped each other tie the ends of the triangles behind their necks, and pulled the material up over their faces.  
     “Much better,” Link said once his mask was in place, still squinting into the swirling dust. “I guess we should set up our tent before it gets too hot, right?”  
     “Yeah, and quick,” Rhett replied. The temperature was climbing steadily, and the garnered that it was nearly 75 degrees and just past ten o’clock. The two unpacked their vehicle and erected their tent with relative ease, driving their tent pegs into the hard ground with a rubber mallet. Rhett had made sure to pack a large shade structure to place over top of their tent, shielding their sleeping quarters from the relentless desert sun. The structure also extended over a small camp area with lawn chairs, a camping stove, and a fire pit. Standing back to admire their handiwork, Rhett clapped his palm between his friend’s shoulder blades. “Looks real good, brother. Home, sweet home.”

     The pair spent the next hour unloading and organizing their camp. Coolers and water jugs were situated in the shadiest corner of their plot, and foam mattresses were laid out underneath their sleeping bags. As Link rummaged through his bags, he paused as his fingers brushed over a familiar object. “Hey, Rhett?” he asked apprehensively. Rhett turned and cocked his head.  
     “Hmm?”  
     “I know we said we weren’t gonna dress up or anything for this, but I thought maybe you could use these.” He held out a pair of metal-framed goggles on a leather strap. “They’re mine, from the Sleep Tight video.” Rhett smiled as he reached out and took the eyewear from the other man.  
     “Won’t you need something?” he asked.  
     “I mean, I’ve got my glasses, and sun glasses. I think that’ll be enough,” Link countered. Rhett nodded and adjusted the strap around his head and placed the lenses across his hairline.  
     “Thanks man,” he replied. “Something tells me I’m gonna need these with all this dust blowing around.”

     As the two men put the finishing touches on their camp, drifters began to pile into Black Rock City in droves, and tents began to pop up around them by the dozens. The wind settled and a few people stopped by their enclosure to introduce themselves and say hello with hearty hugs and firm handshakes. After bidding a pair of dread-locked twenty-something travellers on their way, Rhett pulled two mountain bikes off the rig on the roof of the Cruiser. “So,” he started, “wanna go check out the Man?”  
     “Who?” Link asked, his eyebrows knitted together on his forehead.  
     “Link. The _Man_. The _Burning Man_.”  
     “Oh!” Link laughed, eyes crinkling and exposing his top row of straight, white teeth. “Yeah man, let’s go see it!” Rhett chuckled quietly to himself and shook his head.

     Mounting their bicycles, the pair zoomed down avenues of smooth, chalky silt. Streets were delineated by neon flags on top of poles, and beyond their boundaries, hundreds of tents, lounges, cafes, and bars were quickly materializing on the barren playa. They rode in tandem, navigating around wandering pedestrians and puttering, increasingly bizarre vehicles. Foot traffic was much heavier the closer they got to the innermost nucleus of the city, so they slowed their pace and concentrated on maneuvering around the elaborately dressed burners. Link’s neck snapped sideways as they rode past a giggling trio of young women wearing nothing but flower wreaths across their foreheads.  
     “Holy crap, Rhett! Did you see those girls?” His eyes widened as he whispered frantically to his friend. “They were totally naked!” Rhett shrugged nonchalantly.  
     “Naked hippies in the desert, Link. The crew warned us,” he said, focusing on the crowded street ahead of them. Rhett raised his voice slightly and gestured in front of them. “See that? That must be the Center Camp, that’s where they sell the coffee!” The streets and avenues gave way to a broad, bare circle, where an enormous tent was located in the middle, surrounded by bicycle racks. The men glided around the camp in a wide arch, surveying the populace. At the opposite end of the camp, the tents and temporary structures gave way to a massive, smooth expanse, nearly a mile in diameter. Rhett reached out and hit Link excitedly on the shoulder a few times before pointing forward. “There he is, Link!” He let out an enthusiastic bellow as he pressed animatedly on his pedals, rocketing toward the looming wooden statue. Link let out a resounding laugh as he attempted to catch up, pumping his legs as hard as the gears would allow.

     The two men swerved across the playa in sinusoidal curves, weaving back and forth, exchanging spirited shouts and jubilant laughs until they reached the base of the timber giant.

     Rhett was the first to arrive, skidding to a stop, with Link only moments behind. They dismounted their bicycles and propped them up on their kickstands. The colossal statue stood towering before them, arms stiff at his sides.  
     “Gosh,” Link whispered with his head tilted back, displaying the prominent projection of cartilage in his throat. “This is… incredible.”  
     “It must be sixty feet tall, Link,” Rhett breathed. “This is amazing.” He draped his arm around Link's shoulders. “I’m glad we’re here, brother.” Link inhaled sharply and nodded his head.  
     “Me too, Rhett.”

     The moment of quiet contemplation that followed their exchange was interrupted by a loud rumble from Link’s stomach. A smile split Rhett’s face as he threw his head back with a roar of laughter.  
     “Are ya hungry?”  
     “I guess I am!” Link replied, sheepishly. “I kinda forgot about it. Wanna see if we can find the waffle hut Morgan was talking about?”  
     “So we’re gonna be the moochers now?”  
     “I mean, he said it was a gift economy. We brought gifts, too.”

     The two men, Link especially, had toiled for days leading up to the festival over what they could bring in exchange for the little kindnesses they’d been told to expect at Burning Man. Glow sticks seemed too obvious, and stickers, too frivolous. Link was fixated on bringing along something that was utilitarian, but also small and inexpensive enough to be given away freely. While helping Lando patch up a scraped knee, inspiration hit him. Band-aids. Link had purchased close to two hundred bandages to give away, as well as a dozen or more for his and Rhett’s personal first aid kit.

     Hopping back on their bikes, the pair leisurely rode back to the now crowded streets of Black Rock City. Electronic dance music seemed to meld seamlessly into the intricate beating of drum circles, and hoots and hollers of good nature echoed around them. Link’s head perked up as the faint smell of cooking meat wafted through the busy streets. “Do you smell that?” he asked. Rhett’s nostrils flared as he picked up the scent.  
     “Yeah, I do,” he replied. “We gotta find where that’s coming from.” The pair followed their noses through the teeming streets, until they found themselves in front of a gazebo tent, decorated with plastic palm trees. A large sign, illuminated with LED lights read ‘Bacon Oasis.’ “You gotta be kidding me,” Rhett said, slack-jawed. The source of the smell was immediately apparent, no less than half a dozen Coleman stoves were lit at once, each manned by a person wearing a lei and a straw hula skirt.

     “Hungry, boys?” a striking asian girl with a toothy grin asked as she sauntered up to them. Like the cooks, she too wore a lei and a straw skirt, but took the guise a step further with a coconut shell bra.  
     “Uh…” Rhett found himself temporarily unable to form a complete sentence. He blinked hard and shook his head. “I mean, yeah, we are.” Another grumble shook from Link’s stomach causing all three to crack up with laughter.  
     “You’ve got it guys. What’s your fancy? BLT? Bacon cheeseburger?” the girl asked jovially. Rhett spoke up eagerly.  
     “A BLT please. That sounds incredible right now.” Link made a face.  
     “Eugh. Tomatoes, gross. I’d love a cheeseburger though, thank you.” The girl flashed her toothy grin again before stepping back into the kitchen area and bringing two paper plates stacked high with fare for the two men.  
     “Make sure you guys throw the plates in the fire barrel when you’re done.” The ravenous men nodded and spewed out words of thanks before diving in to their provisions. No less than a few minutes later were the pair licking their fingers clean before depositing their dinnerware into a flaming drum.

     “Think we should give her our gift?” Rhett leaned closer to his companion and asked nervously. Link nodded.  
     “I think that’s how it works.” He shuffled around in his small backpack until he pulled out a sheathed bandage. He looked at Rhett again for approval before heading back to the asian girl, tapping her on the shoulder before continuing. “Hey, uh, we really appreciate that, thanks so much. Um, here-“ he held the band-aid out. “A token of our gratitude.” The girl shot the men a wide, beaming grin.  
     “You two are so welcome. Come back anytime.” Propped up on her tippy toes, the girl gave each man an honest hug. She laughed again. “Ya know, I’m probably gonna need this sooner rather than later. This bra is chafing in the worst way possible.” She adjusted her coconuts, giving the three another earnest chuckle.

     The sun was nearing the horizon of the desert basin, bathing the playa in a dusty rose glow. The streets were packed with wandering burners and cyclists, and fire spinners and sword swallowers began to materialize on every corner. Link elbowed Rhett in the side on a couple occasions, pointing in awe at the performers. The two slowly made their way toward their camp, feeling the temperature dropping with the setting sun. After slowly peddling for what felt like an hour, turning left, then right, then left again, Link stopped Rhett with a shaky hand on his forearm.  
     “Rhett… are we lost?” He laughed and anxiously fixed the hair draped across his forehead. “There’s so many more people here than when we left this morning.” It was true— the once barren playa speckled with tents was now bustling and crowded, and it seemed that there wasn’t a spare place to pitch a tent as far as the eye could see. Rhett craned his neck and tried to make out their camp over the crowd. A look of dismay flashed behind his eyes as his inner GPS began to fail him.  
     “Umm, I’m… not really sure where we are, exactly,” he conceded. “Do you have that map the lady at the gates gave us?” Link nodded and began to comb through his rucksack again before pulling out the folded paper. He smoothed out the document as the pair poured over the streets and avenues. Rhett let out an ironic groan. “Look, Link,” he placed the pad of his finger on the map. “That’s our camp,” he dragged his finger only inches to the right. “That’s us now. We’ve been going around in circles but we’ve just been missing it, over and over.” Link let out a relieved sigh.  
     “Thank God. Let’s get home, Rhett.”

     The temperature quickly plummeted on the playa after the sun had sunk below the skyline. When they had finally found their camp, Rhett wasted no time in stoking a fire while Link dug through their luggage for sweaters. Once their fire was roaring, they settled into their collapsable camping chairs, each with a packet of beef jerky and a small tupperware container of raw vegetables.  
     “So, is it everything you hoped it would be?” Link asked. Rhett gazed contemplatively into the dancing flames, stroking his beard with his forefinger and thumb.  
     “Burning Man? Like, in general? I mean, so far it is. But I’ve just got this feeling that there’s a lot more to come. Don’t you feel that?” Link nodded. A chalky gust of wind blew through their camp, causing the central blaze to flare up and crackle.  
     “Yeah. There’s an energy here. It’s like… there’s a lot of potential in the air.”

     Once Rhett had finished his supper, he pushed himself up and rummaged through their supplies. “Care to celebrate our first day?” He held up a bottle of red wine. “Merlot, 2010. From Bordeaux.” He squinted at the label and struggled to pronounce the French name. “ _Clos du Clocher_ ,” he smiled. “It’s _très_ fancy, _Laurent_.” The brunet laughed as Rhett poured him a substantial glass of the pungent vintage into their plastic, camping cups.  
     “Cheers?” Link offered his glass upward.  
     “To Burning Man,” Rhett agreed, clinking his cup against Link’s.  
     “To Burning Man,” Link echoed. They drank deeply from their glasses, savouring the black cherry and oaky notes of the wine.

     The night grew later, and the temperature dipped into the 40’s, but they were kept warm by the fire in their hearth and the firewater in their bellies. They laughed late into the evening, until nothing but smouldering embers lay in their fire place.  
     “I guess it’s time to turn in, Link,” Rhett said with a yawn. He tipped the last drops of his wine into his mouth as he fumbled to find his flashlight. Link tidied their dishes and extinguished the coals with a few glasses of precious water. They unzipped their tent, pulling off their shoes as they entered, and stripping down to their boxer shorts before climbing into their sleeping bags. It was clear that the rest of Black Rock City didn’t intend to sleep quite so early this night, as the dull beat of dance music and commotion of the crowds drifted through the thin walls of their tent. Rhett shone his flashlight in his bag, rooting around for his earplugs and cursing quietly under his breath, as Link snuggled deeper into his bedroll. Rhett zipped himself comfortably into his bed and sealed himself off from the audible world.

     A few minutes later, Rhett felt a tap on his shoulder. Link peered at him with his jaw chattering. He pulled a foam bud from his ear. “What’s up, man?”  
     “I’m freezing, dude,” the brunet whispered through shuddering lips. Rhett sighed.  
     “Well come in closer then.”

     Link obliged, pulling his pillow closer and shuffling his sleeping bag flush against Rhett's. Link let out a contented sigh as Rhett stuffed the plug back in his ear.  
     “G’night, Link.”  
     “Night, Rhett.”


	2. Day Two

**DAY TWO**  
_Monday, August 31st_

     Morning on the playa wasn’t as serene as Rhett had imagined. The air was still crisp from the night before, but he felt overwhelmingly warm inside his sleeping bag. He rolled his head to the left, and found himself nose to nose with a slumbering Link. The source of his overheating became blatantly obvious, as Rhett realized that in his nocturnal gymnastics routine, Link had unzipped his own bedroll and draped both an arm and a leg on top of him. A smile crept across his face as he slowly peeled the Link’s limbs off of himself and gently set them on the ground beside him. He pulled a t-shirt over his bare chest and slipped on a pair of shorts before shrugging on a sweatshirt. He silently crept out of the tent, careful not to wake his sleeping companion before zipping the tent flap securely behind him. Music still beat far off in the distance and animated chatter drifted in from a few neighboring camp sites, but the streets of Black Rock City were relatively quiet at eight in the morning.

     Blinking groggily, Rhett grabbed his wallet and hopped on his bicycle. Cautious after getting lost the night before, he made a calculated mental note of the path he took as he lazily pedalled to Center Camp. He slowed as he neared the enormous tent, gliding over the pale, powdery earth. After dismounting and hooking the front wheel of his bike into one of the racks, he slowly wandered into the pavilion. A meditation group occupied the centre of the open area, accompanied by the haunting, warbling sound of the didgeridoo reverberating through the air. Rhett spied the large coffee bar across the space, and quickly joined the short lineup. As he reached the counter, he was greeted by a stocky, bald young man with thick framed glasses and large stretched earlobes.  
     “Mornin’,” the barista said. “How was your first night?”  
     “Not too bad,” Rhett replied. “A bit chilly, I guess.” The man hummed.  
     “Forecast is a bit cooler than average this year,” he replied. “Or so I’ve heard. You wouldn’t believe the amount of small-talk about the weather I do at this job,” he said as he smiled and shook his head. “Anyway, what can I get for you, man?” Rhett studied the chalkboard behind him.  
     “I guess I’ll have a medium americano and…” he paused as he considered Link’s order. “A medium cappuccino, please.”  
     “No problemo, dude. That’ll be seven dollars, please.” Rhett flicked through his wallet and put his bills on the counter. As the man poured the espresso and foamed the milk, Rhett put his hands in his pocket as he surveyed the tent. His fingers found a wrapped band-aid. He pulled it out of his shorts and manipulated it with his fingers in silent contemplation. As the barista set the drinks down on the wooden bar, he handed him the bandage.  
     “Thanks. Here, take this. In case you burn yourself.” The barista smiled as he took the small adhesive. “Consider it a tip.”  
     “Hey, thanks a lot!” He raised his hand in a two fingered salute as Rhett took his morning java and headed back toward his bicycle.

     As he reached his two-wheeled transportation, he began to question his ability to carry both drinks and steer his bike at the same time. He reluctantly stacked one beverage on top of the other, testing his balance. The base of the top cup seemed to fit snugly in the rim of the subjacent cap, so he shook the liquid tower apprehensively. It wobbled, but not aggressively so. He swung a long, lean leg over his bicycle and trepidatiously set forward at a temperate pace, steering with one hand and holding the beverages up with the other. When he finally rolled back into their camp, Link was bent over their fire pit, gently blowing through pursed lips at the tiny flicker of a growing flame.  
     “Hey, Link,” Rhett said. The brunet eyed the wavering pillar in Rhett’s hand.  
     “I was wondering where you went.” The little fire went out in a puff of smoke. “What’s that?”  
     “That, my friend, is coffee.” Rhett slowly stood up off his bike, careful not to knock the drinks down during the final phase of his journey. “Cappuccino, for you,” he said, as he delivered the cup once he had a hand free. Link took the cap off his drink and took an enthusiastic slurp of the caffeinated froth.  
     “Thanks,” Link replied, turning his attention back to the petering fire.

     Rhett opened up their cooler while musing out loud. “What’s for breakfast, hmm?” He tossed Link an apple and grasped four eggs in his wide palm. “Scrambled? Over easy?”  
     “Scrambled for me,” Link replied. Rhett fired up their camping stove and cracked the eggs into a pan, folding the yolks into the whites. They ate in a comfortable quiet, staring intently at their small, crackling fire, while sipping their coffees.

     As they drained the last sips of their morning joe, the playa started to come alive. The sun warmed the air and burners sauntered down the silty streets in fantastical get-ups.  
     “What’s the plan today?” Link asked as he studied his adventurous companion.  
     “I think we should check out some of those theme camps,” Rhett replied. “I mean, we saw a few of them yesterday but I think we need to get up close and personal. You know, participate.”  
     “Sounds good,” Link agreed. The two set off shortly after on their bicycles at a modest pace, careful not to miss any interesting camps along the way. The pair quickly found themselves in the Black Rock City arcade, where pyrotechnic games lined the streets. Rhett swung a comically large sledgehammer onto a pad that erupted flames out of a tall, rickety, metal cylinder, earning himself an oversized button that read ‘ _STRONGMAN!_ ’ in fluorescent bubble letters.

     “Ooh, see that, brother?” Rhett asked, pointing down the dusty road.  
     “What?” Link craned his neck to see what he was gesturing toward.  
     “Skee ball! Think you can beat me?” Rhett asked with a mischievous grin pulling his cheeks into fleshy bulbs. Link raised his eyebrows as he let out a wide-mouthed laugh.  
     “Ohh, you’re on, Rhett!”

     The two raced to the stand, picking two vacant, neighboring lanes. The scores were set to zero as the competition begun. The men began rapidly sending underhand tosses up the ramp, just to have them roll back down to the receptacle at their knees. Link looked over and saw a sweat breaking on Rhett’s forehead as he pitched the baseball-sized balls frantically at the steep incline. Using his partner’s panicked energy to his advantage, he took a deep breath as he steadied his hand, and concentrated on sending his ball directly into the top hole— bullseye. A four-foot burst of flame shot from the headboard, startling the pair. Link yelled out and raised his arms in celebration as the score board updated his total to 50. Rhett shook his head as he sent ball after ball up the ramp in an anxious frenzy, earning himself no more points than he had started the game with. Link took another steadfast breath as he sunk another ball into the top scoring hole with another huge burst of fire.  
     “ _What_?! How are you so good at this?!” Rhett asked, incredulously. Link laughed giddily and shook his hips in a small, triumphant dance.  
     “I’m a natural, Rhett. Watch and learn.” He took another shot, and while he missed the 50-point hole, he earned himself a satisfactory 30, sending a smaller burst of flame into the air. Rhett’s mouth hung open slightly in disbelief. Once both men had sunk all nine balls, the score stood at 280 to 220 for Link.

     “Whatever, man,” Rhett said as he shrugged and walked away from the stand.  
     “Don’t sulk just because I whooped your ass, Rhett,” Link teased.  
     “I’m just hungry is all,” Rhett said, dismissively. Link gave him a two-pace lead as he followed him to a bench where they both sat down. Link pawed through his backpack and pulled out a bag of trail mix which he placed in between them. They chewed in silence, feeling their knuckles brush up against each other as they dipped their hands into the bag and the tension between them slowly ebbed away.

     Strong gusts of wind began to swell over the playa, sending bursts of white sediment careening into the crowds. Rhett pulled his goggles over his eyes and both pulled their bandanas from their necks over their noses.  
     “This ain’t good, Link,” Rhett warned, his eyes darting over the darkening horizon. “We should get back to the bikes.” Link nodded and swung the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. The pair made a bee-line to their bicycles and mounted them quickly as they headed back toward their camp. The gale had picked up though, and suddenly they found themselves unable to navigate in a completely white world.  
     “It’s a white-out, Rhett, dammit! I can’t see a thing,” Link called out. He realized that his glasses were no match for the pervasive playa dust, which snaked around his frames and irritated his eyes. Rhett looked around worriedly and saw that the streets had been vacated.

     “Hey, you two!” A female voice called from a large tent enclosure nearby. “Come in, get out of the storm!” The pair exchanged quick glances and hurriedly scampered toward the shelter. As they ducked through the low opening, they found themselves in an otherworldly den. The walls were covered in tapestries with elaborately sewn mandalas, multicoloured flags hung from the ceiling, cushions covered the floor, and sparkling crystals adorned every flat surface.  
     “Woah…” Link breathed, his blood-shot eyes wide in wonderment. “Thanks for letting us in.”

     The woman who had called them in sat down cross-legged on a cushion and beckoned the men to join her. She wore a long, flowing peasant skirt, a beaded bikini top, and a belt swung low across her hips with rows of coins that chimed as she moved. Her hair was piled into a wild bun on the top of her head and her nails were long and painted a deep purple. “It can be dangerous on the playa in a white-out. Especially if you don’t have eye protection,” she looked pointedly at Link, who averted his gaze sheepishly. “I’m Vita,” she continued. The two men introduced themselves and thanked her again for inviting them in from the storm.

     Another woman walked in from an adjacent room, carrying a steaming teapot. She too wore a jingling belt and had long, painted fingernails. “Hi there, fellas,” she said with a gentle smile. “Would anyone like some tea?” Realizing how parched they were, Rhett and Link both nodded. The new woman dragged a small table in the center of the seated burners and set the porcelain pot down, along with four small teacups. She introduced herself as Amira. The four chatted idly for a few minutes, exchanging pleasantries and filling one another in about their respective backgrounds. The two women had known each other since college and had attended the festival seven years in a row.  
     “We started coming on our own, just the two of us,” Amira explained. “And then we found this camp, I think it was four years ago?” She looked at Vita, who nodded in agreement. “And we’ve been coming with them ever since.”  
     “And… what is this camp?” Rhett asked. Vita chuckled.  
     “We’re called the Gypsy Sanctuary,” she answered. “There’s about twelve of us. We’re mystics, fortune tellers and seers." Link raised his eyebrows, but nodded, keeping his apprehension to himself. The wind howled and the walls of the tent shuddered.  
     “Looks like you two are gonna be here for a while,” Amira mused. “Care for a reading?”

     Rhett and Link exchanged glances. “Sure,” Rhett shrugged. “Why not?” Link fidgeted trepidatiously, but loosened up after seeing Rhett willingly agree.  
     “Yeah, I guess so. Why not?”

     Vita got to her feet and gestured at Rhett. “Alright. Follow me, then.” She pulled a beaded curtain aside and stepped into an adjoining room, holding the curtain open for Rhett to follow. They entered a smaller dimly lit room, with two large cushions on the floor and a small table between them. Vita lit a few lamps and sat down. Rhett surveyed the room before taking a seat in front of her. She pulled out a large deck of cards from underneath the table and began shuffling them. She laid out nine cards, in three columns of three.

     “These are tarot cards. The first column represents your past. The second, the present. And the third is your future. Ready?” she asked. Rhett nodded as he felt his palms begin to sweat. She flipped the first card in the first column. “Are you married?” she asked, her eyes flicking up to meet Rhett's.  
     “Yeah, I am. Fourteen years,” he replied. She nodded knowingly.  
     “The Four of Wands. This is the card of a happy marriage. Hard work leads to harmony. You’ve had a happy home life, and this union has fulfilled you.” Rhett smiled and nodded, thinking of the beautiful brunette hundreds of miles away in Los Angeles. Vita flipped the second card. “Kids?” Rhett smiled and nodded again, impressed.  
     “Two boys.”  
     “This is the Ten of Cups. You have a great love for your family, partner and children alike. There’s a sense of emotional contentment here, I’d say you’ve been incredibly blessed up to this point. Your values have manifested here, and the life you experience with your family is a reflection on those values.” Her finger lingered on the final card in the column before she turned it over. Her eyebrows knitted as her gaze flicked between Rhett and the card. “And there’s a person here, a man. He must be very important to you. This is the King of Cups. This a caring, loyal, sacrificial man in your life. He’s got a lot of creative energy, good with the arts. Rather emotional; sensitive.” Rhett stifled a laugh.  
     “I think I know exactly who that is,” he said, picturing his lifetime best friend in the neighboring room.

     Her hand floated to the top card of the middle column. “These cards represent your present.” She flipped the card. “The Ace of Wands. Aces always represent beginnings, and the Ace of Wands can mean a combination of things- a new experience, a journey. There’s a sense of courage where it might have been lacking before. A new energy, a spark, a new feeling of intimacy and passion. There’s a positive spirit to this card, expect these new endeavours to pan out well for you.” Rhett brought his fingertips to his lower lip and considered her words.  
     “Okay… wow,” he breathed. "Intense."  
     “It’s only as intense as you want it to be,” she countered with a wry smile. “Shall I continue?”  
     “Yeah, of course. Keep going.” She flipped the middle card. “The Six of Cups.” She paused for a moment. “Hmm, this is a strange placement for this card. Maybe it’ll make more sense to you than it does to me. This card is about happiness coming to you from the past; childhood memories. It’s about innocence and curiosity. This card speaks of a lifetime of happiness… in some ways it’s about a soulmate, or being able to share everything fully with another person.” Rhett exhaled hard. It wasn’t difficult for him to make a connection with that card.  
     “Yeah, sure, that makes sense. A lot of sense.” Vita’s eyes twinkled with purpose. She turned the last card in the column over.  
     “The Lovers.” Rhett’s inhaled sharply as his eyes darted over the tarot spread. “Now, this may not mean exactly what you think at first,” she said with an outstretched palm, noticing Rhett’s reaction. “Yes, The Lovers is a card about relationships, and yes, sexuality, but it also presents you with a choice. It’s about the struggle of love- the struggle between what’s sacred and what’s profane. This card goes deeper than physical attraction though, it goes beyond lust and speaks of a deep desire and shared passion between two beings.”  
     “I— I don’t know about that one…” Rhett trailed off, but his tone betrayed his words. His mind turned somersaults as visions of Link swarmed his mind. Friend. Brother. Soulmate. Lover?

     “Now, the future,” Vita said with a theatrical flourish, seeing the effect her reading had taken. She flipped the top card in the final column. “Ah, here we have The Hanged Man. This is the sign that you will find yourself at a crossroads. You will need to pause to consider all your possible paths in life. This card also signals that you will need to let go of something, give up a touch of control in your life. Perhaps you’ll need to sacrifice something for the greater good.” She stared deeply into Rhett’s olive eyes. “Yes, I think you’ll have to make a difficult decision.” Rhett nodded, but he was lost in thought. It all seemed packed with meaning, and yet, left so many questions unanswered.  
     “Two left,” she purred. “Up next,“ she paused to flip the card over, “is the Two of Cups. Interesting. We often call this card ‘the lesser card of The Lovers,’ as it carries over many of the same tones. This is about a very deep physical and emotional connection, perhaps… an affair? In this type of relationship, there’s no ‘I,’ just ‘we.’ There’s a mutual benefit to this relationship. It’s nurturing, fulfilling, and heartfelt. Very romantic, indeed.” A glimmer flashed in her eyes as they passed Rhett up and down. “Are you ready for the last card?”  
     “No. I mean, yeah read it. But I’m nervous,” Rhett said, conflicted. Vita overturned the final card unhurriedly. A small, sad smile crossed her face.  
     “Hm. The Five of Cups… bittersweet. There’s a deep sense of emotional sadness here, but all isn’t lost. Yes, there’s disappointment, and regret, but this card urges you to look at the glass half-full, instead of half-empty. I suppose the main message here… is that it’s better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.” She surveyed the spread of cards across the little table. "A difficult decision, indeed."

     In the neighboring room, Amira shuffled around the low table settling across from Link, the coins on her belt jangling. She reached forward with both hands, palms facing upwards. “Give me your hand,” she murmured softly. Link hesitated before placing his hand in hers.  
     “I don’t… I don’t really believe in all this stuff,” he said with a catch in his throat. Amira hummed and cocked her head to the side.  
     “I deal with a lot of skeptics. I don’t expect you to leave here today rushing to get your fortune told on every corner. But maybe it’ll make you think. Maybe it’ll open up your eyes… even just a little bit,” she said with a slight tilt of her head. Link shrugged.  
     “Sure. Go nuts.” Her delicate finger began to trace the lines on his palm, pausing at the base of his pinky.  
     “Three children,” she said, bringing Link’s hand closer to her face. “Two boys and a girl.” He could feel her warm breath dusting across his skin. Her finger roved across his palm, focusing on the bent line that arched around his thumb. “Hmm, here, two lines running along side your Life Line. I think there’s two people along the journey of your life with you… One has been with you for a very long time. And will continue to be. This person is so close to you, sometimes it’s hard to tell where that person stops, and where you begin. The other one… you found a bit later in life. It’s still a deep connection, but… maybe it comes second to the first person.” Link’s eyes shifted as he furrowed his brow.  
     “Okay…” he said, uneasily. Her finger meandered to the deep line that started underneath his little finger.  
     “This is the heart line… and yours is quite short. It means that you take matters of the heart quite seriously.” Link let a faint, approving noise slip. Amira traced her finger down to the tangle of lines at the base of Link’s palm, and fixated on a large triangle there.  
     “Interesting,” she said. “This is quite rare to see. You’ve got the soulmate marking here. And it’s very pronounced.” Link cleared his throat. “I only see this in people who have a true, kindred spirit. Someone who completes you. Someone who you look to as a perfect companion, with a perfect bond. Two separate bodies, with two separate skins… and yet your spirits function as one.” Link jerked his hand away from Amira as Rhett and Vita re-entered the room, the clattering sound of the beaded curtain accompanying them. The two men made prolonged, wide-eyed eye contact, their gaze lingering on each other as Amira began to speak.

     “Well, I hope you took something away from that,” she murmured to Link while casting a sly smile to Vita. Link stood up and anxiously fixed his hair.  
     “Uh, yeah… that was… err, interesting,” he said, with a stutter. Rhett looked around the tent, listening to the stillness beyond the canvas walls.  
     “It sounds like the storm is over,” he commented. “I guess we should be on our way. Thanks for everything ladies.” He extended a nod to Amira and Vita. “We really appreciate the hospitality.” Rhett dug around in his pocket and handed a band-aid to each of the women. “A gift from us to you. Thanks again.”

     Leaving the fortune tellers behind as they exited the tent, Rhett’s gaze remained fixed on Link. “So, how did it go?” he asked. “What did she say?” Link rubbed his palms together nervously.  
     “I don’t really wanna talk about it,” he replied.  
     “Alright… are you feeling okay?” Rhett asked.  
     “Yeah, I’m fine. I just— I don’t believe in that bullshit, Rhett,” Link said, although his voice was distressed. Rhett placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
     “I know, brother. I’m not really sure what to make of it, myself.”

     The two pedalled back to their base in silence, feeling the chill in the air as the sun sunk low beyond the horizon, painting the playa with a deep orange hue. Wordlessly, Link slipped on a sweatshirt and began piling kindling together to start a fire. Rhett hung back by the bikes, and watched Link work in restrained admiration. He let out a long, low breath and headed toward the cooler.  
     “How about burritos for supper? How’s that sound?” the blond asked.  
     “Yeah, sure. Sounds good,” Link replied curtly. Rhett fired up their Coleman stove and began to warm their pre-rolled dinner in a pan. Dinner was served a few minutes later, and the pair ate in mildly uncomfortable silence. Rhett looked Link over again.

     “Seriously Link, are you okay? What did she say to you?” Rhett asked. Link sighed, irked.  
     “She talked a lot about you, Rhett. And the kids. And Christy. But mostly about you,” Link admitted. “She said we were like soulmates.” Rhett blinked, taken aback.  
     “You came up in my reading too,” Rhett said, eyes averted. “She said the same thing, about us being soulmates,” he paused. “Maybe… maybe even more than that.” Link shook his head.  
     “Whatever. That stuff is so stupid.”  
     “We _are_ kinda like soulmates though, Link. I mean… We’ve known each other for thirty years; we’ve done everything together our whole lives,” the blond mused. “We’re blood brothers, too. It seems pretty soulmatey to me.”  
     “Yeah… I guess,” the brunet said. “If you say so.”

The pair’s stilted chatter gradually turned into genuine conversation as the sky grew darker and the glowing outfits that passed their camp grew more and more imaginative. The dusky wind picked up again, sending billows of chalky dust through the air, threatening to spread their fire. In a moment of worry, the two extinguished the blaze and found themselves enveloped in the biting chill of darkness.

     “It’s late anyway,” Rhett said. “Guess we should just hit the hay.” Link nodded, lower lip beginning to quiver.  
     “It’s cold, Rhett,” he mewled.  
     “I know. Did you warm up last night?” Link nodded, gazing up at Rhett's barely lit silhouette..  
     “Yeah. I guess I was alright.”

     Rhett led the way as he unzipped their tent, kicking his shoes off. He brushed the clinging dust off his exposed legs as he ducked in, holding the flap open behind him. The two peeled all the clothes but their boxers off and slid into their sleeping bags.

     “C’mere,” Rhett said, his arm outstretched. Link rested his head on his shoulder, nuzzling the exposed flesh of his chest. Rhett wrapped his pinned arm around Link and wove his fingers into the tangled, raven locks. Link hummed against his bare skin.  
     “This is nice, Rhett,” Link whispered. “Sorry I was a jerk today.”  
     “You weren’t a jerk. I get it. That fortune teller stuff is intense, it’s okay.”  
     “Thanks, Rhett.” Link delicately placed his palm over his heart as his breath slowed and deepened. Moments later, Link was asleep. Rhett rested his head against Link’s, smiling into his hair, before sleep took him, too.


	3. Day Three

**DAY THREE**  
_Tuesday, September 1st_

     Link awoke in the morning to the sensation of liquid trickling down the back of his neck. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he tentatively slid his hand down the gentle slope of his trapezius muscle, pausing when his fingers touched a warm, sticky fluid. He apprehensively brought his hand to his face and violently recoiled at the sight of crimson blood, knocking his head back into Rhett's unsuspecting, slumbering face.  
     “What the fuck?! I’m bleeding!”  
     “Dude, what the hell? You head butted me!” Link rolled over on his side to face Rhett, eyes focused on his outstretched, bloodied fingertips. The edges of his vision began to grow dark, and a cold sweat broke out over his body. Rhett propped himself on an elbow and leaned over him, putting a steady hand to the side of his face. “Are you okay?” A small stream of rapidly falling blood droplets unleashed from Rhett’s nose over Link’s bare chest.  
     “I’m not bleeding!” Link exclaimed, relief washing over him. “ _You’re_ bleeding! Oh gosh, Rhett, are you okay? I’m sorry I bumped you… ho—holy _shit_ , you’re bleeding all over me, get away!”

     The two men scrambled to exit the tent, altogether forgetting their nearly nude bodies. Rhett stood hunched over, hands on his knees, letting the small, sanguine waterfall dribble onto the ground; a sharp contrast against the fine, white dust. He groaned as he looked upward at Link, who was anxiously shifting his weight from one foot to the other and rubbing his temples.  
     “You freaking _walloped_ me, man,” Rhett said, chagrined. “Look at what you did to me!”  
     “I— I thought I was bleeding, dude!” The brunet looked down at his chest and hands, which were thoroughly smudged with Rhett’s blood. “Holy crap, it’s everywhere, it’s all over me, oh gosh,” he moaned and crumpled into a camping chair, head hanging between his legs. “Ohh, I’m feeling queasy. This is not good, Rhett. This is very bad.”

     Roused by the commotion, a neighboring burner wandered over to their camp, Corona in hand. He was in his late 40’s, with tan, leathery skin and long, shaggy brown hair, streaked with grey. He laughed at the scene in front of him. “You must be virgins,” he chuckled. Rhett and Link exchanged incredulous looks.  
     “Uh…” Link said, unsure how to answer, although perking up slightly from the distraction.  
     “Not _virgins_ , you numb nuts. First timers. At Burning Man.”  
     “Ohh, yeah… silly me,” Link said awkwardly, shooting Rhett a look and shrug while silently mouthing ‘ _how was I supposed to know that?_ ’ The man chuckled again.  
     “I’m Charlie. And it looks like you, my friend,” he gestured at Rhett with his beer, “have a bad case of Playa Nose.”  
     “I don’t _have_ anything,” Rhett replied, irked. “This guy head butted me in my sleep!”  
     “Oh no, no,” Link said, defensive. “There was blood on me before I hit you.” He paused and closed his eyes with a heavy swallow. “Oh gosh. I can’t think about this or I’m gonna faint.”  
     “That’s Playa Nose, kids,” Charlie interjected, smug. “Were you guys out in that dust storm yesterday?” Link considered, but eventually nodded in admission. “This stuff is super alkaline,” Charlie continued, kicking up a small, dusty cloud with his sandalled foot. “It’s an irritant, it’ll dry you right out.”  
     “Well I don’t think the knock to the face helped much.” Rhett cast a glare at Link, who rolled his eyes in response.  
     “Yeah, well, you breathe too much."  
     “So what am I supposed to do about this?” He asked with an impatient sigh, still hunched over with blood steadily drip, drip, dripping from his nose.  
     “Well, you can start off by stuffing some tissue up there,” the older man said, chortling. “And when it stops, you gotta sniff some salt water, that’ll help clean it out. Sometimes a bit of vinegar in there too can help neutralize it. Get some Vaseline on a Q-Tip and rub it up in there, that’ll seal it all up good. And stay hydrated for fuck’s sake.” Rhett nodded.  
     “Well… thanks, I guess. Appreciate the tip,” he said. Charlie spun on his heel as he headed back to his camp.  
     “Have a good time, boys,” he called out. “And stay out of the dust!”

     When the man had disappeared from their view, Rhett rounded on Link. “Well?” he said. “Can you get me some tissue?” He looked at the small puddle that was accumulating between his feet. Link took a few groggy breaths and steadied himself before moving to action, digging through a bin searching for a spare roll of toilet paper.  
     “I’m _sorry_ , Rhett. You know how I am with blood, I thought I was gonna faint!”  
     “Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Rhett sighed. Link handed the roll over and Rhett tore two strips, twisting them into short, narrow cones, which he promptly inserted into his nostrils, stemming the flow. He examined himself, chest and hands, covered in blood, and Link, even more so. He erupted into a hearty laugh. “We look ridiculous,” he said in between cackles. “You look like a murderer.”  
     “I do not!” Link retorted, but laughed too, as he hesitantly examined the trail of drying blood on his torso and hands. “You’re the murderer!”  
     “I’m the one bleeding! I’m the victim, that’s how that works, Link!”

     Link guffawed before turning back toward the bin. “I packed some wipes. We gotta clean this off.” Rhett laughed again.  
     “Oh gosh, Link, it’s all over your back, too.” Link turned his head and spun around, trying to catch a glimpse, but laughed again when he realized what he had just done.

     Tub of wipes in hand, Link approached Rhett. He pulled one free, and wavered before reaching up and smoothing it over the crusted, rusty trails on the other’s chest. Rhett followed suit and took a damp square and gently rubbed away the smudges on Link’s torso. “Oh gosh,” Rhett breathed. “I got it all over you.” Link smiled.  
     “I’m sorry I freaked out,” he murmured under his breath. “You know I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He reached up and wiped away the drying droplets mingling with the hair on Rhett’s chin. Their eyes met, searching, hands gently caressing each other through the towelettes. Link’s gaze flickered down to Rhett’s mouth, where the tiny tip of his pink tongue brushed slightly over his lower lip. Their breathing synched, as intense stares flicked between eyes and lips. Rhett lowered his head, bringing his mouth mere inches away from Link’s, with his thoughts echoing. Friend. Brother. Soulmate. Lover.

     Link tilted his head upward and closed the gap, lips pressed against lips, as he tasted the coppery tinge of blood and the salt of sweat and playa dust and _Rhett_.

     “Woah,” Rhett said softly as Link slowly pulled away. “What was that?”  
     “I— I dunno,” Link replied, a warm flush creeping across his face.  
     “I mean, it’s okay,” Rhett whispered. “Just… woah.”  
     “Yeah… _woah._ ” Link looked bashfully at the ground before gesturing with the tub of wipes. “So, uh… could you get the rest off my back?” Rhett obliged, making quick work of the ruddy smudges along the nape of the brunet’s neck and between his sharp shoulder blades.

     The pair took their near nudity as an opportunity to clean the dust off their bodies with the moist towelettes in lieu of a hot shower. Though a somewhat inadequate substitute, it left the pair feeling refreshed despite the proverbial elephant in the room. Once the two had dressed and eaten, and Rhett had taken care of his delicate nose with a drop of vaseline on a Q-Tip, they decided to take a tour of the outer reaches of the Burning Man grounds- outside the city, past the man and into the great, white, dusty beyond.

     “First order of business, though,” Rhett started, “is we gotta get you some goggles.”  
     “But… if we can’t buy ‘em… where are we gonna get ‘em?” Link asked. Rhett paused to think for a moment.  
     “I guess we’ll have to go check out the camps. I think I saw one on the first day where it was like… a dress up thing? Maybe they’ve got something,” he offered. Link nodded and the pair set off on their bicycles.

     Traversing the crowded streets of Black Rock City, they came across an exceptionally large white tent flapping in the warm desert breeze. A hand-painted sign declared the place ‘The Black Rock Boutique.’ Two men and a woman stood out front, draped in and frantically waving large swaths of vibrantly coloured tulle at the passerby.  
     “Tutu Tuesday, guys! Get ‘em while it’s hot!” one of the men shouted in a thick New York accent. “And it’s the fuckin’ desert guys, it’s always fuckin’ hot!” He noticed Rhett and Link slowing on their bikes and approached them. “Look at you two, you look like a coupla squares!” he said as he eyed their solid coloured t-shirts and khaki bermuda shorts.  
     “Actually, we were wondering if you guys had any spare goggles.” Rhett said. “See, my friend here thought his glasses would be enough, but all it takes is one storm to find out that that isn’t the case,” he said, gesturing to Link.  
     “Yeah, no shit guys,” he said with a hint of jest in his voice. “I could help you bros out with that. But you gotta take a tutu too.” Rhett and Link exchanged bewildered looks.  
     “But… why a tutu?” Link asked, confused.  
     “It’s a Burning Man tradition guys! Every year on the third day we wear tutus, look at me! Look around!” It was true, the man himself wore a frilly, pink, puffed up skirt, and there did seem to be a disproportionate amount of ballerina attire drifting around the playa that day. Rhett laughed.  
     “Well, when in Rome, right?” he said as he smiled at Link with a glint in his eye. “Not like we haven’t worn skirts before.”  
     “Alright, sure man,” Link said, giving a lopsided smile, exposing a pointed canine. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” The skirted man cheered and led the two men inside the tent.

     Racks and racks of elaborate clothing lined the walls. Fluorescent mesh shirts clung to hangers alongside glittering scarves, leather harnesses and fun fur onesies. A mountain of tulle lay in the centre of the tent, which the three men approached. Link made a grab for a particularly fluffy tutu, with alternating orange and blue panels. He held it up to Rhett's hips and studied him for a moment.  
     “I think this one was made for you,” he said as his eyes roved up and down his body.  
     “Okay, well…” Rhett dug through the pile before extracting a tiered skirt with yellow and cyan layers. “I think this’ll suit you just fine, brother.”

     The pair pulled the elastic bands of the festive garments over their shorts before following the New Yorker to a makeshift display with embellished eyewear. The trio laughed as Link tried on different pairs. A feathered pool mask. A set of modified binoculars. Oversized aviators gilded with rhinestones. Link settled on a pair of snowboarding goggles, accented with metallic hardware and chains, which he found he could easily slide up over his glasses if needed. When the pair had acquired everything they came for, they thanked their guide genuinely.  
     “I really appreciate everything,” Link said as he shook the man’s hand. “There’s no way I could do another week of this without these,” he said, gesturing to the goggles now nestled comfortably on his forehead.  
     “No problem guys,” he replied. “It’s been a real hoot.” Link smiled as he pulled a bandaid from his pocket and handed it to the man in gratitude.

     The pair sped off on their bikes again, finally escaping the teeming streets and soaring over the vast expanse of smooth, barren playa. Link raised one hand up in the air, feeling the wind sail through his fingers. He glanced sideways at Rhett, tutu fluttering behind him, and laughed, feeling his spirits rise. “This place is amazing, Rhett,” he shouted over the sound of air rushing by them. “I feel freaking liberated, man! I feel so fucking free!” Rhett with him and raised an arm up as well.  
     “We found paradise on earth, Link,” he shouted back, fingers oscillating. “And we’re in it!”

     They spotted a set of kites dancing in the distance, and rerouted themselves to their source. Sand dunes formed over imperfections on the surface of the lake bed, but the pair artfully swerved around them as they neared the figures beneath the floating forms in the wild blue yonder. They were two girls, neither wearing much more than a fluffy skirt and decorative stickers over their nipples. As the men slowed, one girl reeled in her kite and waved at them.

     “Hey guys!” she called out. “Care to take one of these for a go? We’ve got an extra!” She gestured at a triangular frame covered in taut neon green fabric at her feet. “I’m Annie,” she said. “And that’s Genevieve,” she gestured at her companion.  
     “This looks like a lot of fun,” Link said with the childlike look of joy tugging at his eyes. “Thanks so much!”  
     “It is fun! And we’re happy to share,” Genevieve said. “We figured this’d be our gift to Burning Man, so enjoy!”  
     “Just ride down a bit, we don’t want the lines to get tangled up,” Annie warned. They nodded as Rhett tucked the kite under his arm and they pedalled downwind a few hundred yards, so the two women were just darkened silhouettes against the white silt and rocky hills in the distance.

     Rhett passed the handle to Link as he walked backwards with the kite. He could feel triangle of fabric itching to fly under his fingers, twitching with every burst of arid breeze. “Give it some slack, Link,” he called out. Link let the spool roll as Rhett launched the kite into the air. The wings caught the resistance immediately and shot upward without delay. Link’s knuckles turned white and arms locked at the elbow with the force of the rising delta. He slowly gave the line more and more slack, watching the neon fabric climb higher and higher, tails quivering in elegant sinuous trails. Rhett walked back towards Link, admiring his boyish excitement and innocent delight in the activity. He stood close behind his brother, gazing upward and reaching around him occasionally to tug on the line as the wind died down to keep the kite airborne. “Let the line out,” he said softly into Link’s ear as the wind picked up again in a steady current. “Let’s see how far this thing can go.” Link leaned back into Rhett’s chest, and Rhett’s arms wrapped around him, hands overlapping Link’s on the spool. The kite ascended up, up, up, into the cerulean sky until Link’s hands jerked as it reached the end of it’s rope. Rhett rested his cheek up against Link’s soft chestnut mane, feeling his heart pounding heavily in his chest and the warmth of Link's body pressed up against his torso. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Link smelled like wood smoke. Vanilla. The subtle scent of baking bread.

     Neither seemed to notice the lull in the wind as the floating frame plummeted down to the ground in the distance. Link held onto the handle but just barely, his eyes closed too, and head lolling back onto Rhett’s shoulder. Rhett nuzzled against the exposed patch of flesh beneath Link’s ear, his beard rasping against his throat. “What are we doing, Link?” he murmured.  
     “I don’t know,” Link replied, barely above a whisper. “But it feels good, don’t stop.”

     They were unsure how long they’d stood entwined in the empty desert, but a cool gust of wind reminded them that the bitter cold of night was fast approaching. They broke their embrace, suddenly even more aware of the plunging temperatures without the other’s body heat. They scrambled to reel the line of the kite in before biking back to the two girls who had lent it to them. Annie smiled with a gleam in her eye as the two approached. “Looks like you two enjoyed yourselves,” she said, teasingly. A familiar rosiness burned on Link’s cheeks, fortunately disguised by the warm glow of the sun setting on the playa.  
     “Uh, yeah. We had a really good time,” Rhett said after clearing his throat.

     

     Annie smiled wider as Rhett handed her the kite. Link dug in his pockets, and handed each girl a bandaid.  
     “Um, here, take these. You shared your gift with us, and this is what we brought,” Link said, wind tousling his hair. Genevieve studied the bandage in her fingers before prying the package open, stuffing the wrappings in the side of her boot. Her eyes glimmered with moisture.  
     “That’s very sweet, boys,” she said softly. “I think this might be the perfect cure for a broken heart.” She placed the bandage on her chest, slightly off-center and above her left breast. “Thanks so much.” An inhale hitched in Link’s throat as he patted the woman comfortingly on her shoulder.  
     “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he said. “Don’t be sad.” She smiled as she shook her head and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.  
     “I’m not sad, not any more.”

     The two men began the long ride back to their camp, unhurried despite the impending chill in the air. When they returned home, they settled in at their familiar places around a roaring fire. Rhett threw a pot of chilli on their Coleman stove, and Link broke into the cooler.  
     “Beer?” the brunet asked. Rhett shrugged and nodded.  
     “Sure. A couple cold beer after a hot day sounds good to me,” he replied. Link uncapped two Michelob Light and handed Rhett an amber bottle with blue labels. The pair joked as they downed their provisions, greedily inhaling each bite with the vigour of starved wolves.

     Three beer later, their fire began to die down and both men began to fall victim to the slippery charm of the golden brew. They laughed louder and gestured more wildly than they might have normally, and they leaned closer when they spoke. A comfortable quiet ascended over their camp, with both staring intently into the crackling coals. Link broke the silence.  
     “What are we doing, Rhett?” He locked eyes with him. “What happened this morning? And out flying that kite today?” Rhett shook his head.  
     “I don’t know, man,” he said, pained. “I don’t know what’s happening.”  
     “I’m not gay, Rhett,” Link said, defensively.  
     “Neither am I!” Rhett countered. “You kissed me, remember?” Link sighed.  
     “I know. I can’t wrap my head around it.” Link paused. “We’re married men, Rhett. We have wives and kids at home. What would this do to them? Whatever _this_ is.” Rhett buried his face in his hands.  
     “I don’t know, Link. But…” he trailed off, mesmerized by the flames dancing on the charred embers. “I don’t want it to stop. There’s some magic in the dust here, Link.” Link closed his eyes and nodded, breathing out heavily.  
     “And then what? We go home and pretend like nothing happened?” he asked, conflicted.  
     “Shit, Link, I don’t know the answer to any of this. We’ll figure it out on Monday. We have…” Rhett paused to count on his fingers. “Six full days left here. I think we have to let this whole Burning Man thing play out. Maybe… we should see how far this thing can go.” Link gulped, the pointed cartilage in his throat bobbing sharply upward and then back down.  
     “Okay, Rhett. I’m not sure about this, but something’s telling me that you’re right,” he studied Rhett over the smoking cinders, before breaking out in a weary smile. “Like usual.” Rhett laughed again, his smile tugging at the corners of his eyes.

     “Alright,” Rhett said, stretching as he stood up. “I think we better get to bed then.” The pair doused the fire before stepping inside their tent. They exchanged hesitant glances before they stripped down and wordlessly crawled into their sleeping bags. Rhett held out his arm again to Link, which he graciously accepted, placing his head in the comfortable nook on his shoulder. Rhett burrowed his nose into Link’s hair again, relishing his scent and the sensation of flesh on flesh, his heart beating softly under Link’s palm.  
     “This is really something else, isn’t it, Rhett?” he asked quietly, his breath dancing on Rhett's fine chest hair.  
     “Yeah,” Rhett said, his hand finding the ridge of Link’s hip, eyes growing heavy. “It really is.”


	4. Day Four

**DAY FOUR**  
_Wednesday, September 2nd_

     Link yawned as his eyes fluttered open to find a pair of olive orbs focused intently on him, feeling his brother’s strong, wide palm gently caressing the undulating slope of his exposed rib cage. He moved into the touch as a small smile played across his lips. “Mornin’, Rhett,” he said, voice croaky. The blond smiled as he slowly but deliberately pressed his lips onto the brunet’s forehead.  
     “Mornin’, Link,” he replied into his brother’s skin. Link gingerly walked his fingers down the blond’s arm, slowing as he reached the back of the palm that was tenderly grazing his side, before weaving his digits in between Rhett’s, pressing their hands together. The early part of their morning was spent in the tent, exchanging exploratory touches and affectionate looks. 

     When the two finally emerged, they lit a small fire and Link poured up two bowls of Mini Wheats, sitting in their collapsable chairs across from each other. Rhett snaked one long leg beside the fire pit and nudged his brother’s foot with his own, kindling another tender smile on Link’s lips.

     Once the pair had finished their breakfast, Link arched back in his chair and wove his hands into his messy tresses. He groaned as he moved his hands down his face, and then down his shoulders and arms, feeling the microscopic playa particles on every inch of his skin. “I’m covered in dust, Rhett,” he griped. “It’s freaking everywhere. I have dust in cracks I didn’t even know I had.” The blond chuckled at the brunet’s obvious discomfort, but grimaced when he realized that he, too, felt slightly overwhelmed by the pervasive sediment in every nook and cranny. Between his toes. Inside his belly button. Chafing beneath his arms. Settled in the shells of his ears.  
     “I wonder if there’s a theme camp with showers?” the blond mused. “I mean, there’s a camp for _everything_.”  
     “It’s a desert, Rhett. Do you really think someone would lug around all that water just to pour it all out?” Link retorted, looking at their own supply, nearly half empty.  
     “People are pretty generous out here though,” Rhett considered. “Do you still have that map? I’m pretty sure there was a list of camps on the back. It’s worth a shot.” Link raised his eyebrows in doubt, but grabbed his rucksack anyway, pawing through it until he found the crumpled up document at the bottom. The pair pushed their chairs together as they poured over the tiny writing of the enormous list.  
     “Well, I’ll be damned,” the brunet said, his finger stopping on a small square of text. “ _Sin City Day Spa_ ,” he read aloud. “ _Try our thirty second miracle mini-shower, we’ll have you feeling squeaky clean in no time. All you need to do is bring a towel_.”  
     “We’ve _got_ to go there, brother,” the tall blond urged, leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, day dreaming of waterfalls and hot springs. “I don’t care that it’s only thirty seconds, that’s more than I need to get this dust off me.”  
     “I don’t need convincing man, let’s go!” he laughed as he hit his brother in the arm with the rolled up map.

     The pair threw towels over their shoulders and mounted their bikes, heading toward the centermost street of Black Rock City, not far from Center Camp itself. Foot traffic was always heaviest there, so the two men slowed as to avoid the scantily dressed wandering burners in the torrid sun. When they reached their destination, the pair grumbled as they saw the long line leading up to the shower.  
     “Looks like we aren’t the only people who had this idea,” the brunet mumbled as they hooked their bicycles into a nearby rack. “Not that I mind waiting,” he said in afterthought. “I’d do anything to get a wash at this point.”

     The two men joined the line and chatted amicably with two young brunet men ahead of them. The queue moved remarkably quickly, ostensibly due to the short shower times. As the group got closer and closer to the showers, Link let out a sharp inhale and gently nudged Rhett in the ribs, pointing ahead. “Rhett, look,” he whispered. The showers didn’t have much in the way of privacy. A giant black tank balanced precariously above a wooden rig, with a shower head underneath. The structure was completely open, with no curtains to block the passing gaze of all of Black Rock City. Rhett gulped but nodded.  
     “Gotta do what you gotta do, Link,” he said, with a brave inflection. Link put his index finger to his upper lip anxiously but nodded in agreement.  
     “Yeah… yeah, of course.”

     Before long, one of the two youths ahead of them took their turn in a mad dash for the shower. The entire ordeal seemed like a well-oiled machine; as one person took their shower, the next in line began to strip, throwing their clothes and towels in a pile, while the previous occupant dried off and dressed. Rhett was up next. “Here goes nothin,” he murmured to Link, pulling his maroon v-neck over his head, bunching it up into a ball and tossing it aside with his towel. Link held his breath as the blond tugged his shorts and underwear down his long, lanky limbs, eyes fixated on his small but shapely rump. The water shut off, and the twenty-something ahead laughed as he sprinted to his pile of clothes, leaving the wooden structure vacant. Rhett marched forward, and turned around, locking eyes with Link as the gush of running water released over his head. The brunet froze as he watched his companion rub his hands through his hair and over his face, eyes trailing down to his brother’s impressive sex. Remembering the procedure, he lifted his tight, shamrock green t-shirt off, throwing it next to Rhett’s clothes. He inhaled sharply as he undid his belt and zipper, feeling his brother’s consuming stare. His shorts hit the ground with a thud, but he didn’t move. Rhett’s hand slowly roved over his groin, seemingly unfazed by the huge queue behind the brunet. Link gulped as he felt his stomach tighten, but looked away self consciously, tossing the rest of his clothing and glasses into the pile. The pounding water above Rhett turned to a trickle before stopping entirely. He took four long strides to his towel before pulling it quickly around his hips. The brunet bolted for the shower and moaned loudly as the surprisingly hot water cascaded over his head.

     The two never took their eyes off each other during the entire episode, eyes investigating new territory, exploring unknown zones, actually _seeing_ one another instead of just looking. Link could feel the butterflies in his stomach threatening to escape, and gulped hard to quell them. When the waterfall above him finally ceased, he took timid steps toward Rhett who was already dressed from the waist up.

     “How’d that feel?” the blond asked suggestively, his olive eyes still following Link as he concealed himself behind a towel.  
     “Good,” the brunet said, bashful. “Yeah, that was really good. Better than I expected.” A small laugh escaped Rhett’s throat.  
     “Yeah. Me too,” he replied as Link pulled his shorts back on, ruffling his tousled blond hair with his towel.

     With their damp terry cloths slung over their shoulders, the pair made their way back to the bikes, brushing elbows. As they approached the rack, they encountered two girls who seemed to be struggling with a bicycle of their own. They were hunched around the back wheel bickering and fumbling with an unattached chain. The two men looked over inquisitively, catching the eye of one of the girls with long, blonde hair in a braid and thick-rimmed glasses.  
     “Hey, do you guys know anything about bikes?” she asked nervously. “This thing is broken and I have no idea what we’re supposed to be doing.” Link crouched down beside them and assessed the situation.  
     “No big deal girls,” the brunet replied. “You’ve just got a slipped chain here.” He reached around and hooked the chain around the teeth of the rear cog and slowly pushed the pedal forward, and the chain clicked a few times before wrapping closely around the gear. The girls exchanged relieved sighs as they climbed to their feet.  
     “Oh my god, you guys are lifesavers,” the blonde said, extending a hand out to the men. “I’m Liz, and this is Emma.” She gestured at the other girl with wavy brown hair in a half-ponytail. Link was taken back by the brunette’s height; she towered at least three inches above him.  
     “Woah. You’re really tall,” he said in quiet amazement. Emma laughed as she rolled her eyes.  
     “Yeah. Never heard that one before,” she chuckled as she made a knowing nod at Rhett. The blond man cackled empathetically and shook their hands, introducing himself.  
     “I’m Rhett. And your mechanic with the bad manners here is Link,” he said. The brunet man began to stutter an apology but Emma cut him off.  
     “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Happens all the time.”  
     “Thanks again for your help, guys,” Liz piped in again. “What do you guys think about coming by our camp for lunch? We’re just around the corner.”  
     “It’s the least we could do,” the tall brunette said with a smile.  
     “You girls really don’t have to do that,” Rhett replied. “We don’t want to eat all your food.”  
     “Don’t be so foolish!” Liz exclaimed. “We’ve got plenty. And if you guys didn’t help us out we would have been bitching at each other all afternoon over that bike. C’mon!”

     The quartet mounted their bicycles as the two men trailed behind the young women winding through the crowded playa streets. The girls slowed and dismounted their bikes and propped them up against a large, dated Winnebago with a fading paint job.  
     “Woah, did you guys drive this honkin’ thing here?” Rhett asked, impressed.  
     “Yep,” Emma said, laying her hand on the side of the beastly vehicle. “We borrowed it from my parents and drove all the way down from Vancouver. This thing is almost as old as I am but it still runs.” She laughed, patting the vehicle affectionately. “We’re putting a lot of miles on it now, though. I hope we make it home.”  
     “Jesus Christ,” Liz hissed as she pulled the door to the motor home open. “Don’t say stuff like that. Of course we’ll make it home.”

     The four piled into the exceptionally roomy RV and the girls motioned for the two men to sit down at the table. “We’ve got some sausages and baked beans in the oven,” Emma said, puttering around the kitchenette. She pulled open the small refrigerator. “And… how about a couple veggie kebabs on the side?” Rhett’s eyes lit up excitedly.  
     “Sounds awesome,” he said, licking his lips. Liz skewered some vegetables and doused them in a garlicky lemon marinade while Emma fired them in a pan and plated up the afternoon’s fare.  
     “Beer?” Liz asked. Link shot his blond companion a hesitant look, which he didn’t receive back.  
     “We’ve gotta start saying ‘ _yes_ ’ more, Link. Look where it got us. Good food, good company. And a couple other crazy things this week.” He turned back to Liz. “Sure, I’d love a beer, thanks. Link’ll have one too.” The group laughed, Link included, as the blonde uncapped four craft beer. “See Link? Canadian beer! This is the stuff we dreamed about in college, man!”

     The girls set the plates out in front of their guests as they tucked into the table themselves. Conversation was stifled as the food became the focus of the group, words becoming obsolete except for the occasional quiet hum of contentment. Rhett was the first to put his fork down after clearing his plate, belly full and sated. Link quickly followed suit, clasping his hands over his stomach, slumping back into his seat and groaning. “That was awesome, girls,” the brunet breathed. “I wish Rhett could cook like that.” The tall blond elbowed his companion in the ribs, eliciting a quiet ‘oof’ from Link.  
     “I don’t seem to remember you whipping up any gourmet meals either, Mr. Mini Wheats,” Rhett retorted. Emma chuckled as she rose from the table and piled their plates into the sink before placing a small, ashy dish in the centre of the table.

     She sat down again, and pulled a small paper cylinder from a silver case in her pocket. Link took a deep pull from his beer and eyed Emma nervously. The pretty brunette sparked the twisted tip of the joint with a lighter as thick, swirling, pungent smoke ascended upward in thick wisps. She took a long drag, causing the tip to crackle and glow orange before offering it to Rhett on her left. The tall blond raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat, unmoving.  
     “Is that… uh… weed?” he asked uncertainly. The girls laughed.  
     “Yeah,” Emma replied. “BC Bud. Best of the best.” Rhett glanced anxiously at his brother, eyebrows knitted.  
     “I mean… we haven’t really touched that stuff since college,” the tall blond said, ambivalent. Liz eyed Emma with a stern look.  
     “No pressure guys. Just something for a little laugh if you’re interested,” the little blonde said reassuringly.  
     “I mean…” Rhett lifted his hand, eyes focused on the smoking ember in Emma’s hand. “I guess… I did just say that we should say ‘ _yes_ ’ more often, didn’t I?” Link swallowed hard before tilting his head in consideration. “Burning Man’s already a once in a lifetime kind of experience. Why not this?” Rhett mused, warily persuading himself. He hesitated before plucking the small spliff from Emma’s fingers.

     “Here goes nothin’,” he murmured before taking two small, shallow puffs. He sputtered slightly at the intake of the strong, warm smoke, but managed to maintain his composure before passing the paper cylinder to Link, exhaling a thick, nebulous cloud. The brunet scanned his brother’s face intently before reaching up and accepting the joint.  
     “You alright?” he asked. The tall blond took a deep breath and nodded at Link with heavily hooded eyes.  
     “Yeah man, it’s fine,” he reassured. Link took another swill of his beer before bringing the illicit substance to his lips, and taking a quick haul. He grimaced at the skunky flavor and quickly passed it off to Liz. Neither man elected to take another hit, so the girls quickly passed the joint between them, extinguishing it in the ashtray on the table. Rhett took a sip from his beer but coughed as it went down the wrong way. When he tamed the tickle in his throat, a rumbling belch escaped from his stomach, along with a tiny puff of smoke. Link erupted in a case of frantic high-pitched giggles, struggling to catch his breath, overwhelmed by absurdity. The quartet chatted for another twenty minutes, exchanging anecdotes and uncontrollable laughs. When the two men finished their beers, the tall blond excused them, thanking the girls as they made their exit before overstaying their welcome.

     As the pair stepped out of the RV and onto the dusty playa, Rhett stretched his arms above his head, reinvigorated. Link looked up at his companion and let a asymmetrical smile dance across his lips. “What now, brother?” the brunet asked. Rhett shrugged.  
     “I dunno. I just kinda feel like exploring. Whaddaya think?” he asked.  
     “Sure. Lead the way,” the brunet replied. The pair mounted their bikes and swerved through the narrow playa streets aimlessly. After a few minutes in the scorching sun, the blond slowed and held out a hand to stop Link. He swallowed with difficulty, making a mental note of his parched mouth.

     “Link, look at that,” he said eagerly, gesturing ahead. “Do you see that?”  
     “Holy shit,” the brunet replied, looking at a brightly painted sign ahead of them, mouth agape. “Soft-serve? Ice cream in the desert?” He laughed excitedly. “It’s a freaking oasis, Rhett!” The pair frantically dismounted their bikes before joining in a short line. The sun beat down on them relentlessly, prompting the pair to pull their cotton tees up over their heads and stuff them down into Link’s backpack.

     Once the two received their swirled soft-serve, they opted to leave their bikes behind as they wandered around and ate. Link moaned with euphoria at the sweet, cold dessert, his sense of taste enhanced by the lingering effects of the illicit herb. They sauntered in tandem into a small opening amongst the camps, the white, silty area speckled with large-scale art installations. Link laughed as he motioned the pair toward a giant swing set. A single, very wide seat suspended by chain links swayed slightly in the desert breeze. Rhett sat first, holding an arm out as an invitation for Link to join him. The brunet perched lightly beside Rhett, his neurons firing as their thighs brushed up against each other. Rhett slowly pushed off with his foot, and sent the giant pendulum gently swinging back and forth. Link looked up at his blond companion and smiled, sticky vanilla cream dribbling down his wrist. Rhett’s eyes roved over Link’s face, his icy blue eyes shimmering in the sun, his shapely cupid’s bow highlighting full lips, his chiselled jawline and prominent Adam’s apple. Friend. Brother. Soulmate. Lover.

     The pair was wrenched out of their trance by a bizarre, moving sculpture mounted on the back of a beaten-down pickup truck. Neon tubing outlined the letters of a familiar phrase in glowing red. _You Are Exactly Where You Need to Be_.  
     “Isn’t that what the lady at the gate said to us when we got here?” Link whispered as the truck puttered past. Rhett nodded and breathed out hard, refixing his gaze on his brother, placing his fingers along the smaller man’s jaw. His thumb brushed against a tiny vanilla drop on Link’s fleshy lower lip before bringing it back into his own mouth, gently sucking the liquid cream off. The blond lowered his head then, weaving his long fingers into Link’s slightly damp locks. Their lips met again with a spark, Link’s hand left the chain and wrapped around the back of the blond’s neck, leaving the pair balancing precariously on the wooden beam, hearts racing, and holding their ice cream cones out and away from their bodies. Link moaned into the kiss as Rhett’s tongue cautiously brushed against the brunet’s lip, requesting entrance. The brunet conceded as his tongue met Rhett’s, timidly pressing into the blond’s warm mouth. Link felt his brother’s beard, rough and rasping against his face, not unpleasant, just uniquely _Rhett_. The blond’s free hand danced down Link’s face, down his throat, caressing across his curved clavicles and smoothing down the brunet’s bare chest until it rested in the shallow dip of his waist. Suddenly uncaring about his sugary frozen treat, Link let the cone drop onto the powdery playa, and wrapped his arm around his brother. He ran his hand up and down the blond’s back, exploring the crests and valleys of his spine.

     Rhett eventually pulled away and rested his forehead against the trembling brunet’s, their noses grazing alongside each other, puffs of labored breath brushing across their lips. A wide smile crept across Link’s face, exposing his canines and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I think we really are exactly where we need to be,” he whispered breathlessly. Rhett smiled and hummed in agreement before pressing his lips against the brunet’s again quickly.  
     “Yeah,” he replied. “I don’t wanna be anywhere else.”

     The pair eventually found their way back to their camp in the familiar rose-gold glow of dusk. Though neither was very hungry, they ate a simple dinner of raw vegetables and hummus around a meagre fire.  
     “What took so long, Rhett?” the brunet asked as he popped a floret of broccoli into his mouth. The blond looked up at his brother quizzically.  
     “What d’you mean?”  
     “I mean…” he trailed off, taking a sip of water from his canteen. “We’ve known each other for thirty years. How come we’ve never done… _this_?” He gestured between them with his index finger. Rhett shrugged.  
     “I don’t know, Link. It’s not like we haven’t had the opportunity before. I guess I didn’t even know I wanted… _this_.” He knit his brows in thought. “Maybe we’ve wanted this for a long time. And it never seemed right… until right now.”

     The pair retired shortly after, sealed off from the rest of Black Rock City in their tent with a quick zip of a zipper. Sleep came for them slowly, interrupted by lazy kisses and hands roving over chests and backs and fingers raking through each other’s hair.


	5. Day Five

**DAY FIVE**  
_Thursday, September 3rd_

     “Link,” the blond whispered. “Link. Link, wake up.” The brunet was sound asleep, unflinching. “Link, you gotta wake up,” Rhett said as he began to prod his shoulder. “My arm’s asleep, I can’t feel it.” No luck. Rhett slowly extracted his rubbery limb from beneath the brunet’s slumbering head. Link’s eyes fluttered open as his head gently hit the pillow.  
     “Wha’s goin’ on?” he asked drowsily. Rhett stretched his arm above him, flexing his fingers and wincing at the paraesthesia prickling at his fingertips.  
     “Your head was on my shoulder all night,” he explained. “I’ll be lucky if my arm doesn’t fall off.” The brunet smiled and nuzzled into Rhett’s shoulder, careful not to put any pressure on the tingling intersection of nerves.  
     “Mm, I’m sorry,” he purred. “You’re just comfortable. And warm. And you smell good.” Link yawned and propped himself up on his elbow, planting an unhurried kiss on Rhett’s lips, their tongues meeting in the void. “C’mon, let’s make some coffee.”

     They dressed in the modest privacy of the tent, long limbs occasionally knocking against long limbs in the confined space. Rhett set a pot of water to boil on their Coleman stove as Link fetched a couple fruits and granola bars from the cooler. He poured over their reserves, counting the days left on the playa and attributing each tupperware container to a meal. He frowned as he took a bite of an apple and turned to Rhett. “Burning Man’s half over, Rhett,” he said, a touch of melancholy in his voice. The blond surveyed the camps around them, the dusty white ground, and his brother.  
     “Half over? Already?”  
     “Yeah. I feel a little torn,” the brunet replied. Rhett raised a dark, arched eyebrow. “I mean, I can’t wait to sleep in a real bed again. But…” he trailed off as a look of dismay washed over his face. “I feel like there’s still so much to experience here. This place is crazy. It’s making me crazy. It’s making us do crazy things.” Rhett nodded in agreement.  
     “Definitely. We’ve kinda opened up Pandora’s box, haven’t we?” Link groaned as he buried his face in his hands.  
     “And that box is about to open a whole lot wider when we get home,” he said as he approached the tall blond, their chests less than a foot apart. Rhett pushed Link’s hands away and cupped the anxious brunet’s face. He brushed his thumbs across his cheeks reassuringly.  
     “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Link.” He kissed him dearly then, tasting his fear and the sour sweetness of his Granny Smith. “We’ll figure this whole thing out. Don’t worry.” The kettle began to hiss and Rhett let go of the brunet’s face. He slowly poured the steaming water over coarsely ground coffee inside a French press.  
     “I hope you’re right, Rhett,” Link replied, looking at his feet. The blond smiled comfortingly.  
     “You know I am,” he said as he pushed the plunger down into the black liquid. He poured two piping hot cups of java and settled down into his chair motioning for Link to join him.

     The brunet poured a splash of cream into his cup and sighed as he sat down beside his companion. “I feel like I could really lose myself here,” he said quietly, staring into his mug. “In a good way, I guess. Maybe in a bad way too.”  
     “That’s kind of one of the commandments here, isn’t it?” the blond offered. “Radical self-expression.” His head tilted in contemplation. “Maybe we can both lose ourselves completely. But we can reinvent who we are, too.” Link chewed his lip in a reverie.  
     “Yeah. I think I could do that,” he said with a weak smile. He took another bite of his apple and chewed it carefully.

     The pair spent the better part of the morning doing some basic chores around their camp; bagging up their garbage, reorganizing the wood pile, rearranging their food in the coolers to avoid seepage as the ice had all but melted. The air was still that morning so they shook out their bedding, sending clouds of accumulated alabaster dust back onto the playa. “So what’s on the docket for today?” the brunet asked once they had smoothed out their sleeping bags and secured the zipper of the tent.  
     “I guess we could check out some of the Art Cars,” Rhett suggested airily. “We haven’t really got up close and personal with those yet.” Link followed the tall blond’s lead as they mounted their bicycles, cruising toward the vast expanse in the centre of Black Rock City. Once the pair reached Center Camp, Rhett slowed to a stop and gestured for Link to do the same. “We won’t be able to take our bikes with us,” he explained. “We should leave ‘em on the racks here. We might have to do some walking but it shouldn’t be too bad.” Link smiled.  
     “Sure. I trust you.”

     The promenade was predictably speckled with burners, both wandering on foot and zipping around across the chalky silt on bicycles. The pair strolled toward the Man at the origin of the city, keeping their eyes peeled for the curious and wild vehicles that routinely patrolled the open playa. Link pointed in the distance at a rumbling truck, a strange hybrid of a triple decker bus and an angler fish, complete with a brightly glowing lure and a mouthful of long, intimidating pointed teeth. “Here, fishy, fishy, fishy,” Link said teasingly as he set off in a steady jog toward the Art Car, Rhett trailing him at first but eventually surpassing him with quick strides of his long lanky legs. The metallic fish cruised across the playa slowly, allowing Rhett to grab ahold of two railings that paralleled a simple ladder, climbing up and onto the floorboard. When he reached the top, he braced himself on the bannister as he held out his hand to the climbing brunet behind him. Link grasped his palm and the blond pulled him up and into his chest. The men smiled as their eyes met, legs wobbly under them as the vehicle bumped along the barren lakebed.

     “Ahoy, buccaneers!” a female voice squawked behind them. They turned to see a young, bikini-clad female with a captain hat waving at them. “This is the SS Angler, pleased to have you aboard!” The two men smiled and looked around the fuselage of the strange vehicle. Couches lined the fenced off rail, and the ceiling was held up by thick steel cylinders, leaving the area open to the desert breeze. “Go on upstairs,” the woman suggested. “It’s pretty colorful up there.” The men nodded as she directed them toward a narrow cast-iron spiral staircase. Intricate electronic beats emanated from the floor above them, drawing the two men upward. Link lead the way up into the belly of the fish, which was dark and without windows. Black lights illuminated the space in a violet glow, and technicolor neon smears and splotches decorated the floor. A dozen or so burners occupied the space, and another young bikini-clad woman with unruly red hair approached them.  
     “Shirts off, boys!” she called out over the music. “We’ve got body paint, let’s go!” The men exchanged bewildered looks. The girl advanced toward them, two large palates in hand, loaded with glowing paint.  
     “Uh… do we have to?” Link asked, apprehensive.  
     “Come on! Where’s your sense of adventure?” the redhead asked, slightly miffed. Rhett laughed as he began to tug his t-shirt over his head and tossed it against the wall. He leaned over to the brunet’s ear.  
     “We’ve gotta start saying ‘ _yes_ ’ more, Link,” he whispered mischievously. The brunet turned to see his shirtless companion sinking his wide palms in a bright yellow pigment. Link laughed as he dropped his rucksack before his shirt joined Rhett’s, forgotten on the floor. The brunet chose a brilliant tangerine color, and immersed his hands. When both men had armed themselves with paint and assumed basketball stances, the woman laughed and wandered toward another group of burners offering up her palates.

     Hoping to gain the advantage, the brunet struck his hand out first, connecting with the center of Rhett’s chest, splattering orange up his neck and speckling his beard underneath his chin. “So you wanna play like that, do ya?” Rhett asked, rounding on the smaller brunet, cupping the side of his face and dragging the yellow acrylic down his neck and across his chest. The men laughed at their imaginary competition, attempting to cover one another in vivid hand prints. Link pushed his fingers through Rhett’s hair, no longer laying flat and unstyled from their shower the day before, but weakly standing at attention, held up by the tacky tangerine paint. Rhett reached around the brunet, planting a large, splayed palm on Link’s sharp shoulder blade in an embrace. His free hand held the previously unpainted side of the brunet’s face, thumb running a brilliant yellow vertical line from Link’s plump lower lip to the centre of his chiseled chin. Link pulled his hands down from Rhett’s hair to the sides of his face, smearing orange down his sideburns, down the sharp angles of his neck muscles, until his hands smoothed around the tops of his shoulders, pulling the blond toward himself. Their mouths met again, yellow pigment transferring from Link’s lips to Rhett’s, chests pressed against each other, melding yellow and orange into a glowing merigold.

     They broke apart, breathless. Rhett cocked an eyebrow and smiled down at the brunet. “That color really suits you.”  
     “Well, thanks. Who would’ve thought you’d be a decent looking ginger?” Link replied, taunting. Rhett laughed and squeezed the brunet’s shoulder tightly before dropping his hands. He looked around the room and spotted another spiralled staircase and nodded toward it.  
     “Wanna check out the third floor?” he asked.  
     “This bus is nuts, man,” Link commented. “I wonder what’s up there.”

     The brunet lead the way, hand gliding up the railing until he reached a trapdoor at the top of the staircase. He pushed it up, instantly rendered blind by the bright desert sun streaming through the opening. Link squinted hard, blinking a few times before stepping onto the platform which vibrated with the thumping bass coming from four large speakers. This level was heavily populated- close to forty people were crammed onto the upper level, which was completely open and uncovered. The burners swayed and writhed to the pounding dance music. Once Rhett had come through the hatch, Link held a hand out to him, grasping his palm and walking backward, leading the blond onto the dance floor.

     Link smiled as he bobbed his head to the beat, hips swivelling in a fluid figure eight, broad neon yellow handprints on his ribs rippling in the daylight. He took the blond’s other hand in his, raising them up and over both of their heads. A slight smile played across Rhett’s lips as he shimmied his shoulders and tapped his foot to the offbeat. They made fervid eye contact as their cores were drawn closer and closer together, with each sway of their hips and heads and hands. The cadence of the music peaked and dropped, heavy and throbbing. Link wrapped his wiry arms around the blond’s neck, as their hips met. Rhett’s pupils grew wide as the brunet pressed his pelvis against his own, skimming across his hypersensitive lap. The blond dropped his hands to the brunet’s narrow waist, feeling the low burn of hunger in the smooth undulations of Link’s gyrating hips. Link closed his eyes as the tall blond dropped his head to the side, listening to the sound of his labored breaths blowing past the brunet’s ear and feeling his humid exhalations wafting into the crook of his neck.

     As the song came to an end, the men opened their eyes and pulled apart slightly, pupils still dilated and breath still heavy. “Wow,” Rhett said, low and under his breath. Link looked around at the crowded dance floor, quickly feeling overwhelmed by the closeness of the strangers around them and the irregular rocking of the floor. The brunet glanced out into the wide, barren playa, slowly moving past them. He spotted a circle of metallic sculptures not far from them in the distance, and gestured for Rhett to look over.  
     “Wanna go check that out?” he glanced around uneasily. “I think I’m getting seasick.” Rhett noticed his brother’s anxious look and took his hand.  
     “Yeah, for sure,” he said as he lead the pair off the dance floor. “Let’s go.”

     The pair navigated through the vibrating throng until they reached the hidden trap door and descended down the corkscrew staircase into the glowing paint room, splatters illuminated by violet black light. Rhett looked to the wall where they had tossed their shirts before their paint fight, but Link barrelled past him, tugging hard on the blond’s wrist. He followed, hesitantly, bidding a hasty silent adieu to their garments, crumpled on the ground. They climbed down again into the lounge-like first floor, still hand in hand. A woman’s voice interrupted them as they made their way to the final ladder to the solid earth. “Hey guys, wait!” It was the same woman in the captain hat who had greeted them before. This time she also wore a strange contraption around her shoulders with a tray that reminded Rhett of the young teens handing out popcorn at a baseball game, except instead of bags of popcorn, the tray held hundreds of plastic and metallic wrappers. The woman surveyed the men, painted torsos, the braid of fingers held between them, and chuckled. “Looks like you two had fun up there.” Link let go of Rhett’s hand self-conciously, but the yellow paint on both of their lips betrayed them. The brunet blushed a fierce crimson.  
     “Uh, yeah,” he said. “We had a really good time.” The woman smiled broadly, revealing prominent dimples.  
     “One last gift from the Angler,” she said, looking down and pawing through her tray. She picked out three or four of the small wrappers, but paused as she studied Rhett. She dropped them back in her container, and instead picked four identical shiny gold packages from the bottom right of the tray. “I think you guys are gonna need these,” she said with an impish smile directed at the tall blond. “Just in case.” He held out his hand and nearly choked when he read the black writing on the wrappings. He stuffed them in his pocket quickly and bid the girl a rushed goodbye, but smiled at her anyway in conflicted thanks. Rhett descended down the ladder first, leaping past the last few rungs and his feet hitting the playa sand with a hard thud. He reached up and held Link’s waist as the brunet descended, bracing him as he let go of the railing and joined him on the solid ground. The metallic angler fish puttered away from them, accelerating slightly, leaving the two men alone on the desert playa. The sixty-foot Man himself was visible in the dusty distance, no bigger than a toy soldier.

     “What did she give you, Rhett?” the brunet asked, looking up at his partner.  
     “Oh gosh,” the blond replied, a slight pink flush dancing across his cheeks. He fished the packages out of his pocket and presented them to Link in his open palm. “How embarrassing.” Link studied the packages, eyes wide in disbelief.  
     “ _Trojan Magnum, Extra-Large Condoms_ ,” he read aloud. His voice broke in his throat. “H-holy shit!” Rhett reached behind his own head and grasped the back of his neck, flustered.  
     “I guess that’s a compliment,” he chuckled.  
     “I suppose we haven’t been very covert,” the brunet said, touching his thumb to his own lip and then reaching out to trace the yellow pigment on Rhett’s. “Who knows what they’re all thinking.” The blond leaned in to Link’s mouth, kissing him earnestly.  
     “Who cares?” the blond asked, rhetorically. He pressed another kiss onto the brunet’s lips. “I don't care.” Link smiled into Rhett’s mouth, long, dark eyelashes fluttering on the tops of his cheeks and heart pounding in his chest.  
     “I know,” Link whispered. “I- I really love you, Rhett.” The blond took in a sharp intake of air.  
     “I love you too, Link,” he whispered back, their eyes boring holes into one another.  
     “I mean, I’ve always loved you,” Link explained. “You’re my best friend; my brother. But I think this is different.”  
     “I know.”  
     “I’m really happy.”  
     “Me too.”

     The pair wandered hand in hand toward the circle of sculptures. They were ten foot tall words, constructed out of woven welded iron, and positioned in the cardinal directions. To the north- _LIVE_ , to the east- _BE_ , to the south- _LOVE_ , and finally to the west- _DREAM_. They approached from the south, and Link immediately climbed into the dip in the _O_ in _LOVE_ , his six foot frame elevated a foot off the ground but still dwarfed in the massive circle. Rhett approached him, laughing as he measured himself up against the brunet. “How’s it feel to be taller than me?” he chuckled. The brunet tilted his head in consideration.  
     “I don’t think I’d like to be up this high most of the time,” he said. “But I can do this now-“ he paused before planting a gentle kiss on the blond’s forehead. Rhett smiled and wrapped his large hands around the brunet’s hips, lifting him off the sculpture and setting him on the ground beside him.  
     “I think I like you little,” the blond said, returning the forehead kiss to Link.  
     “I’m not little!” Link said indignantly, but with a laugh.  
     “Compared to me you are.”

     The late afternoon north wind picked up abruptly, sending a tidal wave of dust over the open playa, and dropping the temperature considerably. Link dug through his backpack with urgency, pulling out their goggles and bandana dust masks. The dust pelted their bare torsos, causing tiny painful pinpricks whenever a larger granule would strike. The air pushed around them, engulfing the pair in a white, dusty blizzard. “What do we do?” the brunet asked frantically from behind the blue cloth draped over his mouth and nose. “There’s no shelter here! And we’re half naked, we left our fucking shirts on that bus.” Rhett looked around through his goggles, barely able to see the huge iron letters thirty feet in front of them through the storm, even with his goggles. Rhett wrapped his arms around the brunet, burying his covered face into Link’s hair, and positioning himself so that his exposed back took the brunt of the projectile dust. The wind howled past them, Link burying his face further and further into Rhett’s chest, protected by the warmth of the tall blond.  
     “I think we gotta wait it out,” the blond said into Link’s blowing locks. He hummed a little tune, his deep baritone reverberating in his chest. The brunet began to rock along, the pair slow dancing in the silty white cloud. The gusting wind died down a bit a few minutes later, but strong bursts of careening sediment still blew intermittently. “I think we’re just gonna have to get walking,” Rhett said hesitantly. “We can stop if it gets too bad, but we can’t just stay out here all day. And I think the wind’ll mostly be at our backs.” Link nodded in agreement, rubbing his hands over his biceps.  
     “It’s getting cold, too,” the brunet added, with a shiver. “I wanna get back to our tent.” Rhett threw his arm around the brunet’s shoulders and the pair headed toward the Man at the center of Black Rock City, pressing their bandanas against their faces. Rhett gauged that they were close to two miles from their bikes and groaned. What would normally take the two tall men about twenty minutes ended up being closer to a full hour, having to pause whenever the wind changed direction to block their faces from the bombardment of invasive particles. When the pair finally reached Center Camp, the streets of the city were vacant, it’s inhabitants seeking refuge in tents and vehicles. “Let’s just get home, Rhett,” the brunet whined.

     They found their bikes alone on the massive rack before carefully riding back home, one hand steering and the other keeping the flimsy fabric pressed closely against their faces. They ditched their bikes in an unceremonious pile once they reached their fluttering tent, the storm still raging sporadicly, the sky growing dark and the clouds heavy. The two tried their best to brush the fine dust off their clammy skin before entering the tent. Rhett flicked on their flashlight, doing his best to set it upright as to illuminate the shuddering structure. He sighed as he settled onto his sleeping bag, long legs outstretched and propped up on his elbows behind him. “That was brutal, dude,” he said, letting his head loll behind him. “I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have lead us into that storm.”  
     “Hey now,” Link interjected, sitting crosslegged beside him. “That wasn’t anybody’s fault. Unless you have some magical powers over the weather that you’ve been hiding from me all this time.” He smirked. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Rhett?” The blond cracked a weary smile.  
     “Yeah, I suppose that was… an experience, if nothing else,” Rhett replied. “We faced the dark side of the playa and made it out alive.” The brunet reached over and smoothed a soothing hand over the blond’s shoulder.  
     “So I guess we’re stuck inside this tent until the storm blows over,” Link said, an eyebrow creeping upward from behind the thick, dark frame of his glasses.  
     “What are we gonna do until then, I wonder?” the blond asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “It can’t be much later than six.”  
     “I might have an idea on how to kill some time,” Link said, leaning forward onto his knees, and planting his hands onto either side of his lounging companion.

     The brunet leaned into Rhett, their lips colliding with impatient longing, tongue toying against tongue. The blond moaned into the kiss as Link pushed him backwards onto his bedroll, his arms snaking up the brunet’s ribs and pulling him closer. The brunet took Rhett’s fleshy lower lip between his incisors, nibbling on the delicate skin. His hand meandered down the blond’s chest over tangerine hand prints, to the soft, downy hair on his stomach, below his navel. Rhett dug his fingertips into the brunet’s haunches, thumbs hooking on the sharp blades of his hip bones.

     Link broke the kiss and tentatively slid his palm further down the blond’s stomach, over his canvas shorts and onto the growing stiffness underneath. Rhett let out a winded gasp as the brunet searched his shimmering olive eyes for approval. The blond pulled Link’s slick lips back toward his own, his hips driving up off the ground and into the brunet’s hand. “Ohh god, Link,” he mumbled, whispering a fervent prayer into his companion’s lips. “H-holy shit.” He reached between them, groping the brunet in return firmly through his stiff, cotton trousers, triggering a shaky intake of air from the smaller man.  
     “Oh my gosh,” he mewled. “Mm, god yes.” Both men pressed their palms into one another’s groin, sliding up and down the swelling sex beneath their trousers. Rhett moved his mouth from the brunet’s lips, across the stubble of his jaw, to the silky bare patch beneath his ear.  
     “I wanna touch you,” he breathed heavily, a rosy blush burning across his cheeks. Link rolled onto his side, parallel to the reclining blond. Their eyes met, yearning, as he wrapped his nimble fingers around Rhett’s wrist, guiding the larger man’s hand down into the narrow gap between his abdomen and cotton slacks, over the patch of coarse, wiry hair. Link’s eyes fluttered closed as his head fell backwards, jaw slack in rapture, as the blond’s satiny palm wrapped around his member. “God, you look amazing right now,” Rhett growled into the brunet’s ear, grazing the lobe with his teeth. Spurred by the blond’s honeyed words, Link fervidly unfastened the button and zipper on Rhett’s khakis, pushing the soft cotton beneath further and further down, until the blond’s impressive, rigid member bounced free, hovering slightly above his stomach.  
     “Fuck, Rhett,” the brunet panted, as he tugged his own pants down, kicking them off his lean legs. The blond struggled similarly, thrashing as he pulled the garments off himself one handed, not wanting to release the brunet’s quivering sex in his hand. Their lips met again as both men began to pump each other’s manhood in an impassioned mania. Rhett twisted his wrist with a flick as his hand circled around Link’s sensitive head, pulling a long, low groan from the brunet’s chest. “Mm, ohh god, oh my gosh, Rhett,” he panted. “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” Link squeezed hard around the blond’s thick shaft, before tugging him again and again with calculated vigour. Their breathing became erratic as both men neared their climax, their arms crossed between them, driving each other on.

     “I’m so close,” the brunet whimpered, his jaw trembling as his hips bucked into Rhett’s hand involuntarily, beads of sweat trickling down his temples. “Oh fucking god, I’m so close, please, p-please, keep going.”  
     “Ahh, yes, c’mon Link,” the blond groaned, his own pelvis jerking with every pump of the brunet’s hand, orgasm mounting. Rhett focused his attention to the reddened tip of Link’s sex, his hand pivoting and elbow flicking up and down rapidly. “C’mon, oh god please, c’mon,” he gasped, his lips and beard grazing the brunet’s ear. Link’s face contorted, eyes bunching shut and upper lip ascending, revealing his pointed canines as he shuddered into the blond’s plunging hand, finally releasing. Feeling the brunet convulsing beneath his hand, Rhett let go too, eyes strained closed and teeth barred, spurting long ropes of creamy ejaculate over his stomach and Link’s, the pair covered in one another’s viscous nectar.

     They both collapsed onto the ground, breathing hard, overcome with exertion. Link looked at Rhett through heavily hooded eyelids. “That was amazing, Rhett.” He paused. “You’re amazing.” The blond sent him a tiny smile, still making an effort to catch his breath. He groped his hand around in the pile of their discarded clothes and found a pair of cotton underwear to mop up their emissions, smearing come and paint and sweat across their abdomens. The blond unzipped his bedroll entirely, throwing the insulated blanket over himself and the other man, as the brunet fumbled with the flashlight, flicking it off. A comfortable darkness settled over the pair, arms wrapped around each other as their breath began to stabilize, eyelids growing impossibly heavy.  
     “I love you, Link.”  
     “I love you too, Rhett.”


	6. Day Six

**DAY SIX**  
_Friday, September 4th_

     Rhett jolted awake as the low rumble of thunder rippled through their tent. “What the—” Link stirred slightly beside him, readjusting his clasped hands under his chin. The blond got to his hands and knees, carefully crawling around the slumbering brunet. He unzipped the flap, peering out onto the playa. A torrential downpour spilled onto the silty earth, the sky lighting up a thousand watts as electrical bolts branched across it.  
     “What’re you doin,’ hmm?” the brunet yawned.  
     “Look,” Rhett said, pulling the nylon fabric aside. “It’s pouring out there.” Another crash of lighting shook their tent. Link got to his knees, pulling the crumpled blanket up to his exposed torso.  
     “Woah,” he whispered, eyes wide with wonderment as he watched muddy rivers form, meandering in slowly shifting sinusoidal streams. Another clap of lightning flashed, followed closely by the deep reverberation of thunder. The brunet shivered as a damp gust of wind blew into their open tent. Rhett pondered his folded clothing in his suitcase.  
     “Well, I definitely didn’t prepare for rain. Did you?” he asked. Link pushed his lower lip out, frowning.  
     “No, man. I was picturing sunny skies for sure.”

     The blond ran his hand down his chest, pausing as he reached the patch of dry flakes near his navel. “I could really use another shower,” he said, olive eyes glimmering. The brunet looked at him, incredulous.  
     “You think this is a good time to go down to that camp?” he asked, gesturing flippantly at the downpour. Rhett laughed.  
     “No need to go that far when the shower is all around us.” Link flashed him a skeptical look. “C’mon. Our shade tent is keeping our area dry. Our towels are in the car. And we can build a fire afterward to warm up.”  
     “It’s gonna be freezing, Rhett. It’s like forty-five degrees out there.”  
     “Can’t be any worse than the ice bath,” he said with a chuckle, leaning in to the brunet to kiss him lightly. “C’mon.” Link sighed in resignation.  
     “Alright, Rhett. I trust you.”

     The two men tentatively left their tent, barefoot and completely in the buff, stepping out into the rainstorm. They gasped simultaneously as the frigid droplets hit their exposed bodies.  
     “Gosh, Rhett,” Link said, teeth chattering. “It’s freaking freezing!” The blond put a soft palm to his partner’s chin, kissing him again quickly.  
     “Let’s make this fast then!”

     The pair rubbed away the coloured hand prints on their chests, sending brightly colored trickles down their abdomens and long legs. They took turns cleaning the pigment off one another’s back, while rinsing out their own hair. The brunet looked up at his companion, arms crossed over his chest, hands rubbing his forearms. “Are we done yet?” The blond laughed, his own jaw quivering from the cold.  
     “Yes, Link, we’re done.” He grabbed the brunet’s wrist and pulled him under the tarp that hung over their camp.

     The blond immediately began sparking a fire, while the brunet pulled their towels out from the back of the Cruiser, tying one low around his hips. He approached the tall blond from behind, rubbing the soft terrycloth over his dripping hair, down the gentle valley of his back, over the small, pert mounds of his bottom, before wrapping the towel around his waist, tucking the corner in to make sure it stayed fast. The blond let out a long puff of air, not realizing he had been holding his breath. He smiled slightly before focusing on their fire once more, blowing tiny streams of air onto the crackling flame. The brunet poked his upper body into the tent, before emerging with an armful of clothes. “Here,” he said, tossing a few garments at the blond. “Jeans. Underwear. Shirt. Sweater.” The pair dressed in silence, occasionally eyeing each other in their varying states of undress. Another crash of thunder caused the men to flinch, low reverberations shaking the ground underneath them. Once the rippling growls had subsided, another small grumble came from the blond’s stomach, causing the pair to chuckle.  
     “I guess I’m hungry!” the blond laughed. “Now that I think about it, we skipped supper last night, didn’t we?” he asked the brunet, brow arching. A slight flush crossed Link’s cheeks.  
     “I suppose we did. So what’s for breakfast?”

     The blond opened their cooler, and pulled out four eggs, a container of chopped peppers, and a package of tortilla wraps. “Breakfast burrito?” The brunet nodded enthusiastically.  
     “Mmm, sounds good.” The blond set up a pan on their Coleman stove, along with their kettle. Link rinsed out their French press, padding the bottom with a fresh layer of ground beans. He settled into his chair near the fire, holding his hands up to the snapping flames. A few minutes later the blond seated himself next to the brunet, handing him a piping hot cup of coffee and his breakfast on a plate. As they ate, the storm began to subside, clouds rolling off over the hills in the distance, exchanging grey skies for bright blue ones. The pair began to warm as each burning log disintegrated into smouldering ash. They watched as the sun gradually climbed higher and higher into the sky, the water of the muddy silt steadily absorbing deep into the ground although the air temperature never rose higher than sixty degrees.

     “Well, we can’t sit around here all day,” the blond said with a nudge of his foot into the brunet’s calf. “I think the roads’ll be dry enough to bike on. We’ll have to take it easy though.” The brunet nodded, eyeing the darkened earth.  
     “Where’re we gonna go? I feel like we’ve seen this whole city by now.” Rhett scowled at Link's comment.  
     “Are you kidding? This place is huge, man. Besides, we haven’t been to the Temple yet. Apparently it’s a Burning Man essential.”  
     “The Temple?” the brunet asked with a slight tilt of his head.  
     “I just know it’s out about a mile directly past the Man. And they burn it down on Sunday, the day after the Man burns. We’d be stupid if we didn’t at least check it out before then,” the blond explained.  
     “Alright, Rhett,” Link conceded with a slight smile. “Let’s go see it.”

     Still wearing their sweaters, the men mounted their bikes and pedalled in the vague direction Rhett had mentioned. The ride was more strenuous than previous days, the friction of the moist silt slipping backwards under their tires prompted the men to slow down and increase the gear on their bicycles. Once they had passed Center Camp and The Man himself in the middle of Black Rock City, they began to see an unusual structure materializing on the horizon.

     The Temple towered over the barren playa, an eccentric yet organic pointed inverted parabola outlined the entranceway, tapering exponentially behind in a spiral tail. The peak of the entrance reached nearly one hundred feet, and was constructed completely of pale wood, making it occasionally disappear against the white silt behind it as if it were an apparition. Even though the men rode at a plodding pace, they slowed further as they approached the Temple, silent in reverence. They found a set of bike racks adjacent to the entrance and hooked their bicycles there. “This is incredible,” Link whispered. “Imagine the engineers in charge of this,” he quietly joked, admiring the fluidity of the structure with it’s gently curving, slatted walls. The blond sent a tiny smile to his companion before taking his palm in his and slowly guiding the brunet toward the entrance. The tone around the entire Temple was hushed, somber. Those who exited displayed glistening eyes and melancholy looks. Upon entering the Temple, both men could see why.

     Every reachable plank was covered in the scrawlings of burners, notes of lost love and regret and death and mistakes and missed opportunity. Link’s hand bit tightly into Rhett’s as they moved closer to the slatted walls to read the messages. He reached up and traced his finger over a message in shaky blue pen, moving his lips soundlessly. ‘ _I’ve been looking for you all this time._ ’ A shiver rolled down his spine as he gripped the blond’s hand tighter. They slowly drifted through the narrowing temple, spiralling closer and closer to the centre, pausing to read the notes that surrounded them. ‘ _Why didn’t we do this before?_ ’  
     “This is pretty intense,” Rhett murmured, swallowing a lump in his throat.  
     “Yeah,” Link replied softly, his eyes roving over the emotional outpour around them. ‘ _We won’t make love, love will make us._ ’

     A young blonde woman with windswept hair and rhinestones artfully arranged on her forehead, chest, and arms ahead of them in the tunnel smiled wistfully as she placed the finishing touch on a note of her own, capping a permanent marker and stepping back to admire her handiwork. She made eye contact with the tall blond and stepped toward him, the marker outstretched.  
     “Is this for me?” he asked, pulling his free hand up to his chest. She smiled again and nodded, holding the pen up closer to the man. He took it from her tentatively. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thanks so much.” He nudged Link in the ribs slightly, who then burrowed his hands in his pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled Band-aid. Tears gathered in her eyes as she accepted the gift from the men, bowing her head in gratitude but never saying a word. She wandered away after that, further down the coiling temple without looking back. The men looked at the short poem that she had written, her handwriting ornate and flowing.  
      ‘ _We came to the desert, ___  
_Looking for a party,_  
       _Looking for adventure,_  
       _Instead we found ourselves,_  
      _We are the party,_  
      _We are the adventure._ '

     “We are the adventure, Rhett,” the brunet said, looking up at his partner. The blond let out a contemplative sigh as he smiled at Link, pulling lightly on his hand and leading him deeper into the tunnel. The walls and ceiling narrowed around them, bringing the messages surrounding them closer, more claustrophobic, more urgent. ‘ _To my lover, my savior: I wish you knew before it was too late._ ’ The men were drawn tightly together, Link’s elbow nestled in the crook of Rhett’s, their clasped hands pulled fast against the brunet’s shoulder, ribs brushing against one another as they moved. ‘ _We fall in love with the people we can’t have._ ’ Link’s breath hitched in his throat as his eyes darted around the handwriting around them. ‘ _If you died tomorrow would you be satisfied with the life you lived? Did you do everything you wanted to do?_ ’ He tugged hard on the blond’s hand, imploringly. “I wanna get out of here, Rhett.” The blond nodded gravely and spurred the pair forward, toward the glimmering light at the end of the tunnel, through the barrage of anxious messages. ‘ _I’m so afraid._ ’

     When the men finally breached the exit, they reached a cathartic, serene sanctuary. Bright unobstructed sunlight washed over an inorganic garden grove, surrounded by the spiralling walls of the Temple. Trees erected from soldered iron sprouted from the silty earth, canvas leaves with handwritten messages hung from the branches like a weeping willow, gently dancing in the desert breeze. Burners lingered in the oasis, some aimlessly wandering, reading notes on the trees, some in relaxed yoga poses, and a small group sat in a circle, playing tranquil riffs on guitars. The brunet let his head fall back onto his shoulders, eyes closed, chest heaving and Adam’s apple bobbing sharply in his throat. Rhett let the smaller man’s hand fall from his own, placing both of his hands tenderly on his partner’s shoulders, caressing them soothingly and leaning in to place a reassuring kiss on the patch of silken flesh below the brunet’s ear. “That got kinda scary, huh?” the blond murmured, nuzzling his nose into the brunet’s unkempt hair.  
     “Yeah. I didn’t expect that,” the brunet replied, running a hand through the other man’s hair, down the nape of his neck, and resting in the small of his back as he regained control over his breath.  
     “Me neither. It’s nice out here though,” Rhett commented, relieved at the cool, gentle wind caressing his skin. “Should we write a message?” he asked into Link’s ear.  
     “Yeah, I guess so,” the brunet replied. “I’m not sure what to say.”  
     “I think you’re just supposed to write from the heart,” the blond said, shrugging. He uncapped the black marker and plucked a canvas strip from a wooden basket, flattening it out on a table nearby. He twirled the inky pen between his fingers before pressing the felt tip against the rough fabric.

     ‘ _I didn’t know what was right in front of me for over thirty years_ ,’ he wrote carefully, making sure each letter was fully formed and legible. He capped the pen and handed it to his partner. Link took a canvas band and laid it on the table, raising a finger to his lower lip, and looking through the table, eyes unfocused in concentration. He pressed the pen to the cloth, withdrawing it hesitantly before settling in to a hasty cursive. ‘ _I’m scared that what I want will ruin what I have_.’ He exhaled heavily, guarding his message from the blond’s line of sight, crumpling it into his fist. The pair approached the metal tree, reaching as high as their long limbs would allow, tying their notes to iron twigs. They stepped back, admiring the canvas leaves gently rippling in the wind.

     The sound of a familiar chord progression floated through the air toward them from the group of burners strumming on guitars. The pair drifted toward them, hanging back, and nodding their heads to the melody. A dark haired, bearded man and a woman with long, mousey blond hair sang along, alternating verses and harmonizing at the chorus. As the final notes from the guitar warbled, the girl noticed the two men standing near their circle and beckoned them to sit down, nudging the man beside her to make room. The ring shifted and the girl smiled at the two men. “C’mon fellas,” she said as she patted the silty white earth beside her. “Take a seat.” The pair exchanged looks and shrugged, joining the burners cross-legged on the dusty bone-white ground. “D’you guys sing?” the woman asked. Link let out a timid laugh.  
     “Yeah, we do. Mostly funny stuff though,” he explained. “Rhett here plays guitar, too,” he said, gesturing at his partner. A man with shaggy blond hair nodded, pulling the strap over his head, offering up his acoustic guitar to the newcomer.  
     “Give it a whirl, man,” he said with a slight accent and a smile.  
     “Are you sure?” Rhett asked.  
     “Of course, dude. Play us a song!”

     The blond glanced sideways at his brother beside him, before adjusting the instrument in his lap and strumming ‘Always Wanting You’ by Merle Haggard, an old favorite of his and Link’s. He started singing in his resonating baritone, as the brunet closed his eyes and joined in, belting at the chorus with his bright tenor timbre. They were quickly transported to rural North Carolina, winding down back roads in the Dynasty, fiddling with cassettes in a constant state of pure, unadulterated elation at each other’s company. As Rhett played the last reverberating note, the brunet snaked one hand around his partner’s back, resting his palm between the blond’s shoulder blades. The burners in the circle sat with slack-jawed appreciation for a few moments before erupting into earnest applause.  
     “That was incredible,” the ashen-haired woman said, beaming. “You guys are really talented, wow.” The others nodded in accord.  
     “You two should come to our jam session later,” the dark haired man offered. “We’ve been doing it every day at sundown at our camp. We’d love to have you.” Rhett and Link exchanged glances, flattered by the group’s response.  
     “Did you bring your guitar, Rhett?” the brunet asked his companion.  
     “Yeah, actually,” the taller man replied. “It’s in the back seat of the car, I think.”  
     “Perfect! It’s a deal then,” the woman said, her eyes sparkling. “I’ll write the directions down for you guys.” She pulled a small notebook and a pen out of a knitted tote bag, drawing a little diagram with arrows and a simplistic map.

     After the group of musicians had exchanged their pleasantries, the two men rose from the circle and bid the small crowd a quick goodbye with the promise of visiting them a few hours later. The pair exited the Temple via a small path beside the garden grove, leading them out parallel to the enormous entranceway. The brunet shivered looking up at the giant arch, remembering their haunting descent into its depths. “That was pretty surreal, wasn’t it?” the blond asked lightly.  
     “Mmhm. It was good and bad and then it was good again. Very strange,” the brunet ruminated. The pair reached their bicycles and pedalled back to their camp.

     When they arrived, the brunet threw a log into their fireplace, rubbing his hands over the smouldering flames. “It’s freaking cold today, man,” he griped. “It’s supposed to be hot in the desert, what’s going on?” The blond pawed through their food storage, pulling out a few granola bars and an apple for each of them.  
     “I dunno, Link. I think someone told me a while ago that the forecast was actually pretty cool this year,” he recalled. “ I guess they were right.” The smaller man huffed as he opened the crinkly wrapper of his oatmeal bar and took a bite. He chewed carefully as he stared blankly into the crackling fire.  
     “The Temple really freaked me out, dude,” he said fretfully. “I’m scared to go home after all of this. After all the things we’ve done…” The blond sat down heavily in his chair, studying the anxious face of his friend.  
     “I know, Link.” He let out a dispirited breath. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen either.”  
     “We’ve only got a couple days left, Rhett. A lot can happen in three days, but it doesn’t seem long enough either. What are we gonna do on Monday? Pack up and go back to our regular lives? Go home to our families? I don’t know if I can ever be the same after… this.” The brunet’s heart beat rapidly in his chest and his breath came out in short, ragged bursts as he teetered on the edge of a panic attack, burying his face into his hands. “God, I love her so much. And oh god, what about the kids? But… fuck. What about you? What about us?” The blond took one of the brunet’s hands in his, rubbing his thumb across the other man’s knuckles.  
     “Shh, it’ll be okay, Link. I— I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now. I don’t know what’s gonna happen.” He frowned as he rubbed the back of his free hand against the budding moisture in his eyes.  
     “This is fucked, Rhett!” the brunet wailed in anguish. “We come out here for a bit of fun and a break from work and it turns our whole lives upside down? We’ve gotta go back home and what, leave all this behind? Or go tell our wives what we’ve been up to and see how long we’ve got until we’re both getting served with divorce pa—“  
     “Stop right now, Link, shut the hell up. We’re not getting divorced,” the blond said, frustration piercing his voice. “I can’t believe you’d even say that. What, do you think I wanna go back home and rub this in Jessie’s face? ‘ _Honey, I’m home! Guess what me and Link did at Burning Man? We jerked each other off in the tent, isn’t that great?!_ ’” Sarcasm dripped from his words. “Not fucking likely, dude.”  
     “Fuck you, Rhett,” the brunet spat.  
     “Well fuck you too!”

     Link turned on his heel and made a beeline for their tent, ripping the zipper open rashly before disappearing into the nylon shelter, leaving the blond sitting alone at the fire. Rhett ran his hands through his hair and stretched his long legs out in front of him, sighing forcefully and muttering under his breath. “Whatever, man.” He pulled himself out of the collapsable chair before mounting his bicycle and taking the long route around the circumference of Black Rock City into the wide, barren abyss of the open playa. The cool air ripped through his sweater, causing goosebumps to rise on his forearms, but he ignored them, pumping harder on his pedals. He rode aimlessly, pushing further and further forward until he reached a bright orange mesh fence blocking his path. It stretched to the left and to the right for miles as far as his eye could see.  
     “What the…?” he whispered audibly to himself. He slowed to a stop as he approached the fence, reaching out to touch it with his thumb and forefinger. “What’s this doing all the way out here?” he mused. “I guess it’s supposed to catch the garbage that blows out this way,” he said to no one. He continued on, riding in parallel to the fence on his right, veering as the angle shifted. He thought about his brother pouting in the tent, and about the pretty brunette and two boys waiting for him at home in Los Angeles. He thought about Link’s lips on his and shivered as he remembered his hand dipping below the brunet’s waistband. He thought about his hands on Link’s waist as they danced in the middle of a dust storm and the way he clung to him in the depths of the Temple. He thought about his sparkling sapphire eyes and his pointed canines, and the way his nose would scrunch up when he laughed. He thought about the days they’d spent skinny dipping in the Cape Fear River in North Carolina and the days they’d spent cooped up in the office arguing over edits and sponsorships and skits and scheduling.  
     “God dammit, Link,” he said as he spun his bike around and pedalled back toward their camp. “I freaking love you.”

     When he pulled back into their camp, the coals of their burning log still smoked feebly and the zipper of the tent remained fastened shut. “Link…?” the blond asked softly, slowly opening the flap. He peered inside the tent to find the brunet fully enveloped in his sleeping bag; even his head had disappeared into the sage green bedroll. “Link, I— I’m really sorry. I’m just as scared about this whole thing as you are.” He climbed in as the brunet’s hands appeared and pulled the covers down under his chin, his eyes red and swollen.  
     “No, I’m sorry Rhett. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. I know we’re both in this together.” The blond straddled Link’s shoulders with his hands.  
     “Do you think I know what we’re doing? Because I don’t. I just know we’re in this crazy place, in this crazy moment and I can’t get enough of you and you’re crazy and you’re driving me freaking wild, Link,” he said as he leaned in and pressed his lips against the brunet’s, their tongues whispering apologies into each other. When they broke apart, the blond looked around the tent, noticing the honey gold hue washing over them from the horizon.

     “It’s sun-down,” he noted. “Are we gonna go jam with those people?”  
     “Yeah, I think we should,” the brunet replied, pulling his torso up on his elbows. “Do you have the directions?” Rhett sat cross-legged and dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out the creased piece of paper. He studied it closely, eyes squinting in the low light.  
     “I don’t think these guys are all that far from us,” he said, tracing his finger over the streets in the small map. “I don’t even think we’ll need to bike there, we can just walk.”

     The pair packed Link’s small backpack with their flashlights and Rhett fetched his guitar from the back of the Cruiser, pulling the strap over his head so that the body of the guitar rested against his back and the neck poked over his shoulder. “Ready?” he asked, holding his hand out to the smaller man.  
     “Yeah, let’s go before it gets too dark,” the brunet replied. The two men took to the streets, walking in tandem, hand in hand. A few minutes later they came across the camp on their diagram, a group of young people sitting around a roaring fire, guitars and bongos and the sound of melodizing voices wafted through the air.  
     “Uh, hi guys,” the blond said, waving meekly.  
     “Hey!” the ashy blonde said excitedly as the men approached. “Come, come sit! Move over Craig, it’s the guys from the Temple this afternoon.” She got to her feet and shook each man’s hand. “I realized after you guys left that we didn’t even introduce ourselves properly. I’m Marissa, and that’s Craig,” she said gesturing toward the dark-haired, bearded man who raised a can of beer in a friendly toast. “And this is Erik, our Norwegian import,” she motioned at the man with shaggy blond hair and a guitar in his lap.  
     “ _Velkommen_ ,” he said with a cheeky smile.  
     “And this is Kim,” Marissa said, gesturing to an unfamiliar girl with frayed, black dreadlocks with a set of bongo drums placed between her knees. Kim waved timidly before taking a small sip from her can. Marissa hurried around the camp, pulling a set of chairs up for the new arrivals, while Craig pulled two cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon from a cooler, tossing them at both men without warning. They flinched in reflex, hands popping up to snatch the cold, dewy aluminum cylinders out of the air. They settled in the circle between Craig and Erik, cracking the tabs on their beer and slurping off the bubbles of foam that emerged.  
     “Wow, what a welcome!” the blond said, chuckling. “Well, I’m Rhett, and this is Link, my, uh…”  
     “Uh… friend? Partner? We’re lots of things,” the brunet said, cheeks flushing and tripping on his words. Kim raised her eyebrows and Erik just shrugged, laughing.  
     “You guys were great at the Temple,” Craig said. “Just wait till you hear them, Kim.”  
     “Play something, Rhett!” Marissa urged.  
     “Oh jeez,” he laughed. “Okay, how about…” he trailed off as his fingers began to twitch like moth wings on the frets and strumming gently on the strings. He began to sing along, his voice gravelly and low as he emulated the late, great, Johnny Cash. Link recognized the song immediately, harmonizing along with the chorus and ooh-ing along where he wasn’t sure of the lyrics. Erik watched Rhett’s fingers and picked up on the chords, strumming along with him, while Kim laid down a simple beat on her drums.

     The group played and sang late into the night, alternating between songs old and new, improvising lyrics where they forgot them and breaking out into hysterical fits of laughter. Craig tossed a new Pabst to each person as their lager ran dry, a pile crushed aluminum cans slowly accumulating beside the fire over the course of the evening. Link lead an entirely ad libbed version of ‘ _The Sign_ ’ by Ace of Base which left the group in side-splitting laughter, Rhett throwing his head back, tears in his eyes, revealing the perfect porcelain parabola of his dental arcade. As the last can of beer clinked into the heap and the last log began to crumple into ash, the two men thanked their new friends before getting to their shaky feet. Link retrieved the two flashlights from his rucksack and waited patiently as the tall blond struggled to hitch his guitar strap over his shoulder.  
     “Come back anytime, guys!” Marissa said, slightly cock-eyed but smiling unfeigned all the same.

     The pair parted ways with sincere good-byes, thoroughly enjoying their evening. They shone their flashlights onto the ground ahead of them, beams crisscrossing and swaying as their controllers staggered sideways. “This place is really different at night,” the brunet said admiring the glowing lights that seemed to adorn every burner and the glimmering fires that danced in every hearth. “I feel like— like each of us is just a tiny star in a galaxy full of tiny little storms,” Link said, staring up at the clear, black sky.  
     “Woah, Link. That’s pretty deep,” the tall blond said, looking affectionately at his partner. “So what are we then? One of those solar systems with two suns just endlessly revolving around each other?”  
     “Exactly.”  
     “So we’ll never collide?” Rhett asked.  
     “No, we will. And it’ll be the brightest supernova in the universe.”

     When the two men reached their camp, they stumbled into their tent, collapsing in a tangle of limbs, the elixir of lager and lust running through their veins. Like a moth to a flame, Rhett pushed his tongue between the brunet’s lush lips, running his hands up underneath the smaller man’s shirt and wrapping his large hands around his rippling rib cage. Link let out a satisfied sigh, hooking his pliant fingers underneath the back seam of the blond’s shirt, pulling it up, up, over his head. As Rhett’s hands rode further and further up the brunet’s torso, he rolled the smaller man onto his back, settling himself on his knees between his partner’s legs, guiding the garment over his face and tossing it in an unceremonious bundle into the corner of their tent. He traced Link’s fleshy lower lip with his thumb, his fingers grazing the prickly stubble along his jawline. He gently lifted the brunet’s glasses off his nose, folding the arms and tucking them away safely, revealing his gleaming cerulean orbs. He brushed the jet fringe away from the smaller man’s forehead, dusting kisses up his temples. Link purred happily, gripping the blond’s shoulder blades in his hands, wrapping his legs around Rhett’s hips, pulling him closer. The blond took a sharp intake of breath, sensing the heat beneath him, and slowly began to swivel his pelvis against the brunet, feeling Link’s humid, ragged breaths wafting over his collar bones.

     The smaller man wriggled out from under the blond, playfully pushing the larger man onto his back, before crawling on top of him, his thighs straddling his hips, cautiously pressing himself into the growing bulge beneath him. His leaned in and pressed a kiss onto the blond’s lips, before leaving a wet trail of kisses down his neck and chest. He shifted downward, settling onto his haunches between the blond’s legs, fingers frisking the patch of curly light brown hair around his navel, tracing the outline of his turgid sex beneath his blue jeans. “Holy shit, Link,” Rhett murmured, running his fingers through his dark, tangled hair. The brunet smiled into the blond’s skin, placing a kiss dangerously close to his waistband, his eyes lighting up as the larger man writhed beneath him. He undid the button, gently tugging the denim out from under his backside, sliding his hands down Rhett’s fuzzy thighs. His hands trembled as he pulled his boxer-briefs down as well, small puffs of moist breath skimming his twitching, engorged member.  
     “I’ve never done this before, Rhett,” the brunet said, hedging.  
     “It’s okay… you don’t have to if you don’t want,” the blond said, gently pulling his companion’s lower lip down with the tip of his thumb, letting it spring back.  
     “I do want to though,” the brunet said, his hands wrapping around the base of the blond’s shaft. “I want you to feel good.” Rhett’s eyes rolled back, mouth agape as the brunet placed a timid kiss on the tip of the head. He ran his slick tongue in circles around the blond’s tiny opening, lips teasing as they lightly brushed the silky flesh.  
     “Ohh… Jesus Christ,” Rhett groaned, his breath shaky and uneven.

     Eyes closed, Link began to bob his head, slowly taking more and more of his lover into his mouth, tongue tormenting as it caressed his shaft, slippery with saliva. He pumped his hand in unison with his bouncing head, gripping him firmly. His free hand flitted around the blond’s abdomen, the tops of his thighs, before gently fondling his delicate pouch, eliciting a low moan from the larger man. He increased his tempo, the head of Rhett’s member coming into contact with the edge of the moist cavern at the back of the brunet’s throat. “Holy— holy shit, Link,” the blond grumbled, his hips beginning to convulse under the smaller man’s grasp. “You’re incredible,” he panted. “You’re so good at this.” Feeling the blond shuddering beneath him, he looked up at his partner from beneath his long, sweeping lashes, the tip of his nose repeatedly burying into the caramel curls, lips gliding up and down his shaft. Rhett locked eyes with his lover, lip quivering and chest heaving. The brunet pressed the tips of his fingers into the blond’s perineum, pushing the man over the edge.  
     “Fuck, Link, I’m gonna—“ he started to say before releasing his heavy load deep into the brunet’s throat. The smaller man bunched his eyes closed as he swallowed the salty, bitter fluid. The blond melted onto his bedroll, spent and fighting to regain control of his irregular breath. “You— how— how did you do that?” he asked.

     The brunet flushed as he pulled himself to face his partner. “I just… I dunno, Rhett. Was it okay?”  
     “Link,” he said, tone serious and kissing the brunet deeply, tasting himself on the smaller man’s lips. “That was the best blowjob I’ve ever had.” The brunet blushed and smiled shamelessly, his pearly white teeth shining in the dark. “And now, I wanna make you feel good, too,” the blond said, his deft hands skillfully undoing the button on Link’s trousers. The brunet was painfully hard underneath, moaning as the larger man took no time in returning the favor. He pulled the brunet’s jeans and underwear off hungrily, positioning himself between his legs and pulling his thighs up over his shoulders. He licked his lips before leaning down and lapping vigorously at the brunet’s erection, his beard scratchy against Link’s sensitive flesh.  
     “Oh my god Rhett,” the brunet mewled. The blond took the man’s member in deeply, withdrawing slowly, letting the suction build in his cheeks, slurping loudly as the head slipped out from between his lips. “Fuck, god yes,” Link rasped. “Mmm, do that again.” The larger man obliged, his head bouncing rapidly with his cheeks pulled inward, tongue undulating on the pulsating vein on the underside of his sex. He ran a vast palm up the brunet’s wriggling side, caressing him firmly. He slid his hand under Link’s raised hips, splaying his palm across the brunet’s round, fleshy rump. He took the man’s member in his free hand, letting his lips slowly run down underneath, placing a quick kiss at the base of his shaft. He shifted slightly, his hand resuming the thrumming beat, while his lips skimmed over the coarse, dark hair over his sac, pausing before the pointed tip of his slippery, wet tongue brushed the unexplored tight ring of muscle below.

     Link gasped hard at the sensation, hips bucking into the blond’s hand. “Oh my—“ he stammered, before letting his head fall back onto the pillow, jaw slack in fervid rapture, as the blond’s tongue began to swirl around the narrow opening. “Ohh god, Rhett,” he breathed, air catching in his throat with every pump of his lover’s fist. The blond placed his lips back on the tip of the brunet’s trembling sex, his finger taking the place of his tongue, slowly spiralling around his puckered orifice. He gently pressed his finger into the clenching muscle, eliciting a sharp inhale and a series of urging moans from the brunet. He bobbed his head rigorously as he curled his finger, pressing into the bundle of white-hot nerves inside him. Link’s pelvis spasmed, contorting and pushing himself into the foreign finger, sweat beading across his forehead, unable to find any balance between the sensations inside him and around his throbbing member. “Fuck, Rhett,” he cried, convulsing, before his orgasm hit him hard, shooting thick strings of come into the blond’s mouth.

     The pair collapsed next to each other, both panting with exertion. “I’ve— I’ve never done that before,” the brunet whispered as the larger man cuddled up behind him, burying his nose into Link’s mussed locks.  
     “I haven’t either,” Rhett replied, breathing heavily into his partner’s ear. The smaller man pressed his backside into the blond’s lap, their legs nestled against each other, curled up into a gentle arc like a question mark. They tugged an unravelled sleeping bag over their clammy, nude bodies, before snuggling into each other and their pillows.  
     “But I’m glad we did.”


	7. Day Seven

**DAY SEVEN**  
_Saturday, September 5th_

     Link groaned as he rolled onto his back, the heels of his palms pressing into his eyes. The dull throbbing of a hangover thudded at the base of his skull, his mouth dry and stomach somersaulting uneasily. Pinpricks of sweat formed across his hairline, the warm mid-day sunshine beamed through the translucent nylon walls of their tent and irritated his sensitive eyes. “Oh gosh,” he griped quietly. “I feel like crap.” The blond beside him stirred, flinching at the bright daylight as his eyelids peeked open.  
     “My head hurts,” Rhett grumbled, stretching his long arms over his head and arching his back. “I want pizza so bad,” he added as an afterthought.  
     “I’d do all sorts of indecent things for a cheeseburger,” the brunet replied.  
     “Oh man, In-N-Out would be so good right now,” the blond said dreamily. “That’ll be our first stop when we get to Reno.”  
     “Mmm, a cheeseburger with grilled onions and a vanilla shake… I can taste it now,” Link said, eyes closed, his fingers gripping the air in front of him and inhaling deeply to smell the imaginary sandwich. The blond smiled at the smaller man beside him, placing a delicate kiss on the top of his bed-ruffled dark locks.  
     “C’mon, let’s get up,” he said affectionately. “It’s hot in here. And we’ve slept most of the day away.”

     The pair dressed in their tent groggily, emerging a few minutes later in jeans and graphic t-shirts. A perceivable buzz flitted over the playa, excitement seemed to resonate from every camp, every burner. The brunet let his gaze rove over the scene in front of him, head tilted in contemplation. “What’s going on today?”  
     “Tonight’s The Burn, Link,” the blond explained. “The Burning Man burns tonight. Didn’t you do any research before we came?” he asked with a laugh.  
     “I mean, you seemed so enthusiastic,” the brunet said, adjusting his glasses with a tiny smile. “I figured you’d do the boopity boops for the both of us.”  
     “Well you’re lucky I did,” Rhett said, smirking cockily. “You would’ve spent this whole week stuffed inside that little tent without me.”  
     “Hey now,” Link said teasingly. “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate you being the tour guide. It’s been fun to go with the flow.”

     Rhett made his way toward their coolers, sighing as he pawed through their meagre rations. “Slim pickin’s today, brother. I don’t think there’ll be any cheeseburgers on the menu until Monday,” he said as he tossed a chartreuse apple and a granola bar toward his companion. The brunet exhaled in mild disappointment as he nodded and bit into the sour white flesh of the fruit. As he chewed he brought his hand up to his cheek, stroking the rough, dark stubble that began to crawl up the sides of his face.  
     “I need a shave,” he mumbled, feeling the prickles emerging from his upper lip. The blond studied his face with a smirk.  
     “I think you look pretty good with a bit of scruff there, Neal. Rugged. Very manly.” The brunet punched his companion playfully on the shoulder.  
     “Shut up. Do you remember the last time I grew a beard? The Beasts tore me a new one, man.”  
     “They’re a bunch of kids. What do they know?” Rhett replied. “Besides, you _do_ look good. I’m not just saying that.”  
     “Thanks, Rhett,” the brunet replied quietly with a small, lopsided smile.

     The pair spent their day lazing around the camp, slightly too hungover to contemplate any adventuring. Rhett stoked a small fire while Link dug through their first aid kit to find some relief for their headaches. He found a small vial with a few aquamarine liquid ibuprofen tablets, and poured a few into his palm, knocking them back dry with a grimace. He held the container up to his tall companion. “Advil?” The blond held out his palm eagerly as the brunet tapped a couple pills out.  
     “Just two?” Rhett asked.  
     “These things are pretty strong, man.”  
     “I’m really big, Link. There’s a lot of me that hurts right now,” he said with a laugh, only half-joking. “C’mon. One more.” The brunet obliged, tipping another pill into his open hand. The blond knocked back the capsules back with a quick swig of a water bottle before settling into his chair. “Thanks.”

     The two men enjoyed each other’s quiet company until the shadows grew long, eating a sparse dinner from their cooler. The excited hum of the city amplified as the sun sunk low behind the hills in the distance; the primal and driving sound of drums steadily pounding reverberated through the air, drawing burners across the playa toward the colossal wooden statue in the center of the city. A glimmer of exhilaration flashed across the brunet’s face as he eyed his tall companion. “Should we get going?” he asked, his hangover ebbing away with the invigorating percussive beat. “I wanna get a good view.”  
     “Yeah, I think it’s time,” Rhett replied, beginning to get excited himself. The pair stowed their flashlights away in Link’s backpack, along with their sweatshirts in case the chill of night became too much. They walked their bicycles to the street closest to them, impressed at the number of burners making their pilgrimage toward the Man. As the two swung their long legs over their bikes, a voice called out to them and stopped them.

     “Hey there, tall guys!” a male hailed them from behind. They turned to see a couple in their mid-twenties emblazoned with hundreds of glow sticks waving them down. “Are you guys going to The Burn dressed like _that_?” the man asked. The pair exchanged ruffled looks.  
     “Well… yeah,” the blond said sheepishly, looking at his and Link’s minimalistic outfits with a critical eye.  
     “You’ll get run over by an Art Car for sure,” the woman said with a light-hearted laugh. “Let us help you out.” The men propped their bikes up on their kickstands and approached the couple hesitantly.  
     “We’re just lookin’ out for ya,” the man said with a jovial chuckle.  
     “Thanks, I guess,” the brunet said with a small laugh, holding his arms out from his sides, offering himself up to the strangers. The blond followed suit, and the couple made quick work of the two tall men. They detached the long, narrow, luminescent tubes from themselves, and rapidly crafted a series of rings and hoops, popping the ends into the small, plastic connectors as they pinned them around the men’s bodies.

     When all was said and done, Rhett had two bracelets at each wrist, aglow in ruby and gold. Two large hoops criss-crossed across his chest and shoulders in a bright citrine _X_. Three rings were clasped around Link’s right bicep, radiating emerald onto his shirt, and one loop connected snugly around his narrow waist, brilliantly sapphire. The couple stepped back to admire their craftwork. A quick look of discontent crossed the woman’s face before she created one last vivid amethyst ring, placing it on top of the brunet’s hair, nestling it gently behind his ears, emphasizing his tangled wings. “There,” she said softly. “You guys look perfect.”  
     “We should get their bikes too, Brooke,” the man said, attaching a few small hoops around the frame of each man’s bicycle, glowing red and glowing blue for Rhett and Link, respectively. The men delighted in one another’s luminous forms, enjoying the colorful display dancing across their bodies.  
     “I don’t think either of ya are gonna be in any traffic accidents tonight,” Brooke said with a smile.  
     “Thanks,” the blond said sincerely. “I’m feeling pretty festive now.” He stepped behind Link and unzipped his backpack, pulling out two sheathed bandages and handed them to the glowing strangers. Brooke laughed loudly and turned to her partner, opening the paper packaging.  
     “Hey Mike,” she said with a mischievous grin, placing the adhesive on his cheek at an angle, reminiscent of an early 2000’s rapper. “You’re lookin’ real fly.” The illuminated man laughed in return and placed his bandage similarly on Brooke’s face.  
     “You too, babe.”  
     “Thanks guys,” she said to the two tall men. “Have a good Burn.” They smiled and nodded again in appreciation before heading back to their bikes.  
     “Hey guys, one last thing,” Mike said to the retreating men. “Remember: you don’t always get The Burn you want, but you always get The Burn you need.”

     Rhett and Link exchanged pensive looks, mounted their bicycles, and pedalled slowly toward the center of Black Rock City. The crowd around Center Camp was swarming, burners buzzing and vibrating throughout the throng. Soon it became impossible to ride their bikes at all, so the two men dismounted, walking as far as the overflowing bike racks, and luckily found two spots to nestle their transportation. Rhett felt a wave of gratitude for Mike and Brooke wash over him, the glowing rings around the frames of their bikes made them easier to spot amongst the incredible cluster of metal skeletons and rubber wheels. “You ready for this?” he asked the brunet, smiling at the violet light that shone across his sharp features.  
     “Let’s do it,” he replied, holding a hand out to the taller man. They set off on foot toward the towering effigy in the distance, now illuminated by long stretches of LED tubing and floodlights, green on the left, and pink on the right. His arms no longer hung stiff at his sides, but were elevated out to the heavens above his shoulders, ushering the burners closer from far and wide. The men were carried along with the flow of people around them, elbows brushing against their kin, exhilarating voltage transferring in tiny sparks, jumping from person to person amongst the incredible din of chatter and laughter.

     As the flock neared The Man, the crowd dispersed, burners seeking out friends and loved ones. Link tugged on Rhett’s hand. “C’mon, let’s get up a little closer.” They gently wove through the mingling crowd, occasionally lightly tapping the backs of their hands against the unsuspecting rears of stationary burners to get them to shuffle forward to let the men through. Eventually they found a bare patch of playa and decided to claim it as their own. Link lowered himself down onto the ground first, tugging his companion along with him. The sky was at it’s deepest shade of indigo, and the open playa was only lit by the lights on The Man and the brightly decorated burners who congregated around him. The minutes seemed to fly by as the men observed the crowd assembling around them, their legs crossed and hands held in a knot in the brunet’s lap. The Man stood ominously ahead of them, a ring around him cleared off by officials who paced attentively around the base. Once the last fleeting rays of light had all but disappeared, a dull roar of anticipation wafted over the army of burners. Chants erupted all around them. “Burn, burn, burn!” A broad smile spread over Link’s face as he looked up at his companion and squeezed his hand tightly.  
     “Burn, burn, burn,” he cheered along. The incantation of the group reverberated around them, and the tall blond closed his eyes, charged and thrilled just to be a tiny part of the entire spectacle.

     Without warning, a fine spray of hissing white sparklers erupted from the sides of the colossal effigy, spanning from the tips of his hands down to his knees, creating the illusion of angel wings. The crowd around them stopped their incantation, but howled like a pack of lost wolves instead, causing a chill to run down the brunet’s spine and his skin to prickle, the fine dark hair on his arms standing at attention. “Woah,” he whispered to his partner, who laughed at him before throwing his head back in jubilation.  
     “Aroooooo!” he yowled, joining the cacophony around them. The wing-like sparklers on The Man fizzled away, leaving a ghostly cloud of smoke in their wake. A blast of pink explosions rippled above them, bands of glitter streaming downwards like the leaves on a willow tree. The pinks gave way to glimmering golds, detonating in droves, popping so loudly that the brunet winced. Whistling comets shot up from the ground in waves, combusting in purple peonies, bright sputtering orbs painting the sky with flashes of light and smoke like constellations and nebulae. A pearlescent cannonade covered the sky in flashing pinpoints of light, hissing like the sound of velcro being ripped away. Bursts of green and red and gold fanned across the sky, their streams disappearing into spectral spider legs, creeping across the black background with the faint hint of a breeze. The howling around them never ceased as orange and blue swirls rocketed up into the sky, exploding like the leaves on a boundless palm tree. The blasts reached a deafening crescendo, a beautiful chaotic mixture of every color and every pattern splashing across the heavens in vivid disarray. All of a sudden, the fireworks stopped. The crowd hushed. The smoky trails in the wake of the blasts diffused into the air, leaving a tense quiet over the playa.  
     “Think this is it?” Link whispered.  
     “Shh,” the blond hushed, a finger raised to his lips. “Look,” he said, pointing toward the Man. The floodlights around him cut out, immersing the crowd in the thick cover of darkness spurring a collective inhale.

     Bright orange licks of flame sprouted around the Man’s neck like a collar moments before the pyrotechnics resumed their thunderous booming. The mob erupted in screams of delight, the two men among them. They dropped one another’s hand to raise their fists over their heads in elation, Rhett’s glowing bangles jostling as he pumped his arms. He looked at the brunet, his face aglow with exuberant glee, reflecting the kaleidoscopic color of the sky in front of them, the luminous violet band in his hair a shade dimmer than his brilliant smile. He brought his wide palm to the side of Link’s face, turning his head toward him and leaned in. Their lips connected with fireworks of their own, and though their eyes were closed, bursts of light shone through their eyelids. Link nestled his fingers deep in the coarse hair of the blond’s beard, thumbs leaving sweet caresses down his neck as their tongues danced. Rhett pulled away a few moments later. “This is perfect,” he muttered, low under his breath. “You’re perfect.” The brunet smiled and blushed, his gaze darting between the larger man’s olive orbs. “No… you aren’t perfect,” Rhett corrected, studying the brunet. A flash of confused upset crossed Link’s face. “You’re not perfect. You’re so flawed, Link. You have so many perfect flaws and every single one of them is a reason I love you.” They kissed again as blossoms of white and gold speckled the sky.

     The explosions above them increased in frequency, bombs shooting up in incessant incidence, blue, purple, white, pink. When it seemed like the sky couldn’t hold another burst, another two defused until the entire playa lit up as if bathed in daylight. The brunet’s heart pounded, matching the earsplitting artillery, as he gazed up in childlike wonder. The flames around the Man’s neck had spread up around his head, dancing out toward his hands. As the fireworks reached their climactic finale, a seismic shockwave shot through the air. An enormous mushroom cloud of flame engulfed The Man like an atom bomb. The billowing fiery blast rose upward, sending a hot gust of air out into the crowd, drawing a united gasp from the burners which quickly turned to shouts and overwhelming cheers. When the resulting ball of smoke dissipated, the Man shone in the distance, his timber body swallowed in an incandescent inferno. The fireworks ceased but the crowd hooted and hollered to make up for the resounding thunder. The twenty foot flames lashed into the dark desert sky, heat radiating hundreds of feet around them. As the men watched the monumental effigy crackle and burn, the formidable symbol of oppression and constraint, they felt the shackles of their own lives lighten with every passing second. Rhett squeezed the brunet’s hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a light kiss on his clenched fist. “I’m glad we came here, Link,” he spoke into his partner’s skin. “I’m glad all this happened. I would’ve walked around my whole life and never would’ve known what this was like.” He smiled broadly, eyes crinkling. Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill down his round, protruding cheeks.  
     “Rhett…” the brunet started, his pointed teeth biting his lower lip. He pulled the blond toward himself, allowing his lips to delicately brush over his straight, Grecian nose, placing soft kisses on his eyelids before tasting his lips, hands gripping tightly around the back of his neck. “I’m glad we came here, too.”

     The Man smoked in the distance, his lifted arms becoming a heavy burden as the fire weakened his brittle, wooden frame. His left arm came crashing down to the ground, followed just a few minutes later by his right. The energy in the crowd seemed to swell, the sound of drums picking up and small groups stood to dance along with the ethereal beat. As The Man slowly broke down to his skeleton of glowing embers, speakers at camps around them turned up to eleven, the low thudding of bass travelling over the crowded playa. “What’re we gonna do now?” the blond asked his companion.  
     “I dunno. I’m too jazzed up to go home now,” Link said, feeding off the enlivened energy of the people around them. Rhett nodded in quiet agreement, feeling drawn to the thumping bass coming from the camps around them.

     “Hey, you guys wanna come to a party?” a girl’s voice said from behind them. The men turned to see a small group of young adults getting to their feet. A twenty-something dark-skinned girl with a cropped, peroxide-blonde pixie cut spoke up. “We heard about a cool dance pretty close to Center Camp. You should come!” Link looked at Rhett and shrugged, pulling himself up off the dusty ground.  
     “Why not?” he said, cocking his head. “We’ve gotta head back in that direction to get our bikes anyway.” He held his hand out to help the tall blond up. “And we know how to get home from there so we won’t get lost,” he said with a chuckle. The blond smiled and nodded, extending his hand out to the group of burners.  
     “I’m Rhett, and that’s Link,” he said. “You?” The sable-skinned blonde introduced herself as Erin, and her friends took turn shaking both men’s hands.  
     “Justin.”  
     “Tiff.”  
     “Briana.”  
     “Warren.”  
     “What kind of party is this?” the tall blond asked.  
     “Well, it’s a Burn theme,” Erin said. “Obviously.” She laughed. “But there’ll be, you know, music, dancing, a bar if you wanna get some drinks.” The two men figured it sounded entertaining enough, so they left the smouldering cremains of The Man behind, and followed the group closely behind as they made their way to the illuminated streets of Black Rock City.

     The small ensemble regaled each other with recollections of the Burn, the fireworks, the chanting crowd. As they passed Center Camp, Rhett glanced into the heap of bicycles, eyes searching for the familiar glowing bands around his and Link’s bikes, smiling when he spotted them in the cluster. The group ahead of them took a turn down a small side street, navigating through the swarm. Throbbing dance music pumped through the air, signalling to the men that they were nearing their destination.

     They approached a massive tarped-over area with speakers piled twelve feet tall, a huge raised soundstage, and an electric dance floor, tightly packed with burners from all walks. Super-sized pillows and bean bags lined one wall, and flashing lights and a fog machine bathed the entire area in a psychedelic haze. “This is it,” Erin said over the music as she turned back toward the men. “Follow me, I’ll show you to the bar!” The group slid around the outskirts of the vibrating dance floor, to the long, crowded bar perpendicular to the stage. As the small crew bellied up to the counter, Erin flagged down the bartender. She looked over the group, counting. “Seven shots of tequila!”  
     “Woah, woah, woah,” Link said, brandishing his hand in front of him. “I can’t do tequila!” Rhett laughed as he beckoned the shot glasses toward them.  
     “Don’t mind him, he’s a bit of a wuss,” the blond said, chortling. “He’ll drink it.” The bartender clinked down seven small glass cups, quickly pouring them to the brim with golden, amber fluid, and topping them with a slice of lemon.  
     “To watching that Man burn!” Tiff yelled loudly, raising the glass and sloshing a few droplets onto the counter. The group lifted the shots to their lips, grimacing as the strong, woody liquor splashed over their tongues. Link scowled as his eyes squinted closed, mouthing frantically on his lemon wedge. Rhett laughed at his partner as he set his glass back down on the bar, rubbing the brunet sympathetically on the shoulder. The rest of their group disappeared onto the dance floor, but Erin lingered behind.

     “One more thing, guys,” she said with a smile. She dug in her pocket and held her hand out to the men. “A gift.” The men held their palms upward as she dropped a small, pink tablet into each of their hands. It was a chalky, pressed pill, embossed in the shape of a grenade.  
     “What’s— what’s that?” the brunet asked, his brow furrowing as he glanced between the tablet and his tall, blond companion.  
     “It’s Molly, guys,” she said sheepishly. “It’ll make you feel really good. Perfect for a night of dancing. They call it the love drug.”  
     “So it’s like… ecstasy?” the blond asked, marvelling at the tiny bomb in his hand.  
     “Yeah, that’s it,” Erin said. “No one really calls it that anymore though.”  
     “How long does it last?” Rhett asked, his interest piqued.  
     “We’re not gonna take this, are we, Rhett?” the brunet asked, taken aback.  
     “It’s a once in a lifetime kinda thing, Link. We’re in a crazy place, why not do a crazy thing?” Erin smiled broadly, revealing a prominent diastema. He leaned in to the brunet’s ear. “Besides, we’re saying ‘yes’ more, aren’t we?”  
     “It’s usually about four hours,” Erin piped in. “Maybe a bit longer. And don’t worry,” she said to Link, placing a pacifying pat on his forearm. “You’ll have a really great time, I swear.” With that, she too disappeared into the crowd, leaving the men at the bar with palms full of puzzles and potential.

     “I don’t even know what this is gonna do to me, Rhett,” the brunet said anxiously, his brows wrinkling his forehead.  
     “I don’t either,” the blond admitted. “We’re just gonna have to promise that we’ll look out for each other. Don’t let me out of your sight and I won’t let you out of mine.”  
     “Promise?”  
     “I promise.”  
     “Okay,” the brunet conceded. “But you’ve gotta go first.” Rhett laughed as he flagged down the bartender again.  
     “Could I get a bottle of water please?” The bartender nodded and slid a slick, cold bottle down the counter. The blond unscrewed the cap and looked at the pink pill in his palm. “Here we go,” he said, popping the tablet between his lips. He narrowed his eyes as the pill skimmed his tastebuds; the harsh, bitter, flavor of chemicals leaving a trail on his tongue. He tossed it back with a gulp from the bottle, shaking his head as he felt the tiny parcel descend down his esophagus. Link looked up at him expectantly, analyzing his face.  
     “Anything?” the brunet asked. Rhett laughed.  
     “I think it takes a little while to kick in.” The brunet shook his head.  
     “Right,” he said with a small smile. “I guess it’s my turn then. Water?” He held his hand out to the blond who passed him the bottle. Link exhaled deeply. “Bottom’s up.” He took a long swill, dropping the tablet between his lips, and swallowed hard, the sharp projection of cartilage in his throat plunging noticeably. “So what now?” he asked.  
     “I guess we dance, Link.” He held his hand palm upward, and offered it to the smaller man. “May I?” The brunet gave him a hesitant smile but took his hand all the same, allowing himself to be lead onto the dance floor.

     Rhett delicately guided the pair through the throng until he found a small unoccupied area where he and Link would have enough room to move freely. He lifted the brunet’s hand above his head and spun him in a circle until they faced each other again. The blond bounced his head up and down to the pulsating techno beat, shimmying his shoulders. Link raised his arms up, the three emerald bands on his right bicep tightening as the muscle flexed. He popped and locked his hips with a suggestive look painted across his face, the memory of the little pink pill fading quickly as he watched the blond’s eyes track the movement of his twisting abdomen.

     The music built and built, adding tension with every added sound and hit of the hi-hat, before culminating in a hard drop, setting the dancers off into a vicious frenzy. Droplets of sweat began to form on both men’s temples, body heat from everyone in the venue spiking the ambient temperature upward. After some time, the heat began to fester in Link’s face and he felt his chest tighten. He gulped hard, rubbing his the back of his hand over his forehead uneasily. “I don’t feel so good, Rhett,” he said quietly, swallowing a lump in his throat. The blond studied his partner’s face attentively, brushing his dark hair off his sticky brow.  
     “You okay? Wanna get some water?” he asked trepidatiously.  
     “Yeah,” the brunet said, his eyes closed and breathing uneven. “Water would be good.” The blond immediately took the brunet’s hand and parted the crowd around them urgently, ushering them back toward the bar.

     Rhett made pointed eye contact with the bartender, before insistently ordering two bottles of water. He lifted the first to Link’s lips, encouraging the smaller man to drink. He cracked the seal on the second and let a few drops drip into the brunet’s hair, which dribbled down the sides of his face. “C’mon,” the blond coaxed. “Let’s find a place to sit down.” He took his partner’s hand again and lead him around the fringes of the dance floor, finding a secluded bean bag chair and gently thrusting Link down into it. He crouched down next to him, studying his face. “You okay, Link?”  
     “Yeah, I just feel like… overwhelmed? D’you think that girl gave me a bad pill?” the brunet asked, taking another sip of water. “You don’t feel anything?” The blond considered for a moment, taking inventory of the prickling sensation in his fingertips and the ball of anxiety he felt in the pit of his stomach when he looked at Link.  
     “I guess I just feel kinda tense,” he explained. “It’s probably hitting you harder because I’m a lot bigger. Do you wanna go back home?” The brunet shook his head vehemently.  
     “No. I don’t wanna move anywhere just yet. And I’m feeling a bit better now that I’m sitting down.” He shifted over on the bean bag, patting the area beside him. “Sit with me.” The tall blond shuffled onto the pillow, throwing an arm over Link’s shoulders and rubbing his other hand on the brunet’s thigh. They breathed quietly for a few moments, the brunet’s head reclining onto his companion’s shoulder. As the seconds ticked by, the men felt a marked shift in their bodily sensations. The anxious strain began to melt away, quickly replaced by a heightened consciousness of one another’s comfortable body heat. Link hummed softly as he nuzzled his nose into the blond’s beard, inhaling sharply and smiling at the smell of his woody musk. Rhett’s fingers danced along the bright green bands around the brunet’s arm, feeling the pleasure of his own quickened pulse, the measure of his breath, suddenly very aware of the gentle rise and fall between their chests.

     “I— I think it’s happening,” the blond stuttered.  
     “Me too,” the brunet said, his eyes lightly closed. “I feel really _good_.” His curved black lashes fluttered as his eyes opened; two dark pools with razor thin, icy blue banks. “Maybe Erin isn’t such a bad cat after all,” he said with a little laugh.  
     “Do you still feel sick?” the blond asked, his pupils blown too, eyes wide and skin flushed and clear. His finger traced a meandering path down the other man’s hairline, lingering on the sharp angle of his jaw.  
     “No, I feel better now,” he said, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “It was scary at first, like a thousand-foot waterfall crashing in my chest. But now I feel good. _So good_. It’s like my whole body is tingling and I’m really glad you’re here with me and I feel like I’m on top of the world on this squishy bean bag.” The words flowed from his mouth with ease, his inhibitions stripped away as a tsunami of dopamine and serotonin flooded his every neuron.  
     “I feel really good too,” the blond said. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s like I can’t imagine I’ll ever be unhappy again. And I’m so glad we’re doing this together, Link. I wouldn’t wanna do this with anyone but you.” He smiled broadly and laced his fingers in between the brunet’s. Friend. Brother. Soulmate. Lover.

     They sat talking enthusiastically for a long stretch of time, fully engaged in one another, blissfully unaware of the moving bodies around them or the flashing lights or the pounding music. They bared themselves, emotionally nude, the grit and friction of the real world rendered obsolete, flickering safely on the silky oscillation between _me_ and _we_.

     Link’s fingers began to drum on Rhett’s chest as a new song started up, heavily influenced by the hip hop of their college days, albeit with an amped up bass line and sprinkled with electronic synthesizers. “We’ve _got_ to go dance to this, Rhett,” he said, sitting upright, his foot bobbing with the beat. “I _love_ this song.” The blond laughed as he pushed himself up.  
     “Yeah, this is a really good one,” he said. “Let’s go.” The blond heaved himself off the pillow, the dull ache in his back completely eradicated, feeling as spry as a teenager. He took the brunet’s hands and pulled him to his feet, drawing the smaller man against his chest. He ran his large hands down Link’s back, resting them on his hips, smiling as his eyes wandered around his sharp facial features, his long neck, his broad shoulders and tiny waist. “Gosh,” he sighed. “You’re like the only color in a world of black and white, Link.” The brunet flashed his dazzling smile, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s neck.  
     “I love you so much, Rhett,” he said, pulling the blond in for a kiss. His lips were heady; intoxicating, the sensation magnified by the chemicals pumping through their veins. The brunet let a small moan slip, intensely aware of the blond’s hands on his body and his heart beating wildly in his chest. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” They moved in unison onto the writhing dance floor, feeling the rhythm course through every fiber of their being, every movement perfectly on beat. They felt completely unable to keep their hands off each other, palms roaming over torsos and backs and necks and arms. Their breath was heavy, eyes locked on each other, glassy black spheres watching every move. As the song reached it’s peak, the lights cut out, all except for a rapidly flashing strobe, making every gesture look like it was happening in slow-motion, every step syncopated and pulsating. When the lights came back up again, the brunet was glistening with his own sweat and Rhett’s, their bodies pressed up against one another. “I think I’m ready to go back home,” Link whispered into the blond’s ear, his tone soft and sultry.

     The pair squeezed themselves out of the dense crowd and back into the streets of Black Rock City. Outside of the enclosure, the air was chilly, causing goosebumps to prickle on both men’s arms. Link raised his hands, welcoming the change in temperature, ruffling his damp hair and raising his arms out to the side. He smiled broadly, taking the blond’s hand in his, feeling the dewiness of his palms and the dull thud of his pulse. The two men slowly made their way back to the central bike rack, stopping sporadically to kiss and touch each other’s skin, every caress thrilling and every kiss electric. They found their bikes in the heap of metal frames, helping each other wrench their bicycles out of the tangled assemblage. As they rode back toward their camp, they laughed, relishing the wind whistling across their damp bodies.

     They clamoured into their tent, chilled and refreshed, but eager to dive into the sweet sensation of one another’s skin. Unattached glow sticks joined their shirts in a crumpled heap in the corner, although one luminous band stayed nestled around the brunet’s hair like a violet halo. Their lips collided as Rhett laid the smaller man on his back, his wide palms gripping the brunet’s waist tightly, afraid to let go. Link ran his fingers into the blond’s hair, wrapping his legs around the larger man’s hips, drawing him closer, gently circling his pelvis to the sound of an imaginary beat. His breath hitched in his throat as his lover pressed back, the mounting stiffness in his trousers forging against his own. “Mmm,” the brunet moaned. “You feel so good, Rhett.” The blond raked his teeth down the coarse stubble on Link’s jaw, along the surging artery in his neck, pausing to nibble at his defined collar bones, drawing a strangled gasp from the smaller man. “Oh gosh,” Link sighed, wedging his hand between their rippling bodies, grappling with the button on his partner’s trousers. He pushed the Rhett up and off him, so that the larger man stood on his knees, the top of his head brushing the roof of the tent. The brunet wriggled onto all fours, pushing Rhett’s pants down his long, lean thighs, freeing his trapped erection. As it bounced upright, unrestrained, the brunet placed a delicate kiss on the tip before wrapping his lips around its head.  
     “Ohh my god, Link,” the blond groaned, his head falling backwards. The brunet slid his lubricated lips down the blond’s shaft, feeling the larger man tense. He bobbed his head languidly, taking in more and more of his lover with every bow, his tongue lapping lavishly underneath until he felt the blond reach the back of his throat. Rhett worked his fingers into Link’s hair, echoing his movements but careful not to force his steady momentum. The brunet pushed forward eagerly, lodging his lover’s member deep into his moist cavern, choking slightly on the sensation, pulling backwards with a long string of saliva dangling from his lips. “Holy shit,” the blond mumbled. The brunet plunged in again, hitting the same spot but with an air of determinism to control the reflex, soft, wet sounds escaping his lips. Rhett groaned again, taking his hand and pressing the smaller man back, withdrawing himself reluctantly from between his partner’s warm, slick lips. “Turn around,” he said, his voice deep and wanton. He deftly reoriented the brunet, still on hands and knees, but his head faced away from him. He tugged the smaller man’s trousers down over his firm, round rump, hands caressing the his smooth mounds as he kicked his own jeans off his legs. He leaned in, his wide palms spreading Link’s cheeks, as his tongue swept across the furrowed opening.

     “Oohh,” Link mewled quietly, high pitched and shuddering. “Ohh god.” The blond worked his long, pointed tongue in circles, his hand reaching between the brunet’s legs, grasping his arousal, stroking it in a slow rhythm. Link quivered as he craned his neck backwards, watching his bearded companion disappearing behind him, his wet tongue prodding at his tight entrance. He pushed it past the clamped ring of muscle, eliciting a long, low moan from the brunet, who let his head hang down between his shoulders. The blond brought up his trembling index finger to replace his tongue. He pressed it slowly into the glistening cavity, groans slipping steadily from the brunet’s throat. “Fuck, Rhett,” he muttered, his words stifled by salacious craving. The larger man gently pushed his finger in and out of Link’s body, drawing unintelligible phrases from his lips. He added another digit, slow and tender. “Holy—holy shit,” the brunet whimpered, pushing his hips backward into his lover’s hand, their pace quickening. His fingertips brushed the sensitive cluster of nerves inside of him, causing the smaller man to gasp.

     “Rhett, I— I want it,” he pleaded. “I want you, p—please.” The blond gave one last, long, slippery lick to the brunet’s entrance, extracting his fingers. He took the smaller man’s waist in his hands, flipping him softly onto his back, nestling himself between Link’s shaky thighs. Their lips connected again, hips against hips, rigid sex brushing against rigid sex.  
     “Are— are you sure?” Rhett asked, cupping his lover’s face. His dilated pupils pierced the brunet’s, his voice husky with apprehensiveness and ardor. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” The brunet drew his thighs up around the blond’s waist, angling his hips so that the larger man’s member nestled into his cleft.  
     “I want it,” he implored, his pelvis slowly rocking against the blond’s length. “I wanna try, at least. Please.” The blond groaned, leaving a voracious trial of nibbles down his lover’s jaw and neck.  
     “But we don’t have any lu—“ the blond trailed off, sitting upward onto his haunches. “Wait a second.” His eyes scanned the darkened tent, landing on a crumpled pair of canvas shorts, discarded hastily a few days earlier. He stretched a long arm over, plucking them off the ground, his other hand fastened on the brunet’s calf behind him, holding his fuzzy legs fast around him. He dug his hand into the pocket, pulling out a gold foil wrapper. “I guess this’ll do,” he said, tearing the package open and pulling the latex ring out from within. He placed it over the head of his member, rolling the sheath down his shaft. They kissed again, their chests heaving in impatient anticipation. “Are you ready?” the blond asked, hooking Link’s knees over his elbows and positioning himself at the brunet’s opening, slippery with saliva.  
     “I’m ready, Rhett,” he whispered, eyes heavily lidded. “I trust you.”

     The blond pressed inwards, agonizingly slow. He paused as his head breached the clenching ring of muscle, seeing the brunet make a sharp intake of breath, letting it hiss out past his lips. The blond let out a quiet moan of pleasure, showering the brunet’s cheek in tiny kisses. “Are you alright?” he asked. The brunet’s eyes were bunched closed, his fingernails digging into the larger man’s shoulders, gripping so tightly that Rhett thought he might break the skin.  
     “It hurts,” he murmured. “Don’t move, okay?” He tilted his chin up to the blond, who placed his lips on the brunet’s, their tongues caressing one another in the void between them. After a few moments, Link broke the kiss and slowly began to shift his pelvis back and forth. “It’s okay now, go slow.” Rhett obliged, pressing into the brunet in unhurried, short, shallow strokes.  
     “Is it okay?” he asked softly, lips brushing against the smaller man’s ear.  
     “It’s good,” Link breathed, his brows still knitting every time the blond pushed himself inside. “Mmm, fuck,” he moaned. “It feels really good, Rhett.” The bearded man reached between their bodies, pumping the brunet’s hardened member in time with his own gentle thrusts. The air in the tent was thick and muggy like a greenhouse, warmed by panting breaths and sweat and the friction of their bodies.

     Before long, Rhett had buried himself completely inside Link, resting his forehead against the other man’s beneath him, their humid breath washing over each other’s faces. The brunet’s hands clawed at Rhett’s hips, urging him to hasten his pace. “C’mon, Rhett,” he incited. “Faster.” The blond obliged, pulling himself back, and plunging in.  
     “God, you feel so good, Link,” he murmured, taking the brunet’s lower lip between his teeth. He pulsed inward, jostling the smaller man.  
     “Ahh, oh god,” he wailed. “God yes, don’t stop.” The blond thrust inside him urgently, his thick sex skimming Link’s sensitive gland, causing the breath to catch in the brunet’s throat. Link’s hips bucked up to meet Rhett’s every advance, their bodies connecting repeatedly in a fervid frenzy. Time seemed to stand still as the larger man drove into Link over and over again, their eyes transfixed. Sweat dripped down Rhett’s chest as he pumped himself and his lover’s sex in his hand. As their bodies thrashed against each other, the brunet’s thighs began to jerk uncontrollably, his orgasm swelling rapidly. The blond sensed that his partner was close, pulling the smaller man’s knees up higher and resuming his pounding rhythm.  
     ‘C’mon, Link,” he growled, biting back his own climax. He burrowed himself in deeper, harder, watching the brunet’s eyes close and his mouth hang open, jaw slack and chest heaving. He angled his pelvis upward, pushing himself directly into Link’s hypersensitive nerve bundle, tugging hard on his pulsating sex in his hand.  
     “Oh _fuck_ , Rhett,” he called out, loud and unrestrained. His hips convulsed, toes curling, as come shot from his throbbing sex in thick spurts, gushing down the blond’s fingers and across his own chest.  
     “Christ,” the blond growled through clenched teeth. He barrelled into Link in hard, rapid thrusts, before expending himself inside the brunet. He collapsed on top of him, the pair panting and twitching with residual waves of bliss.

     Once they regained some control over their breath, the blond withdrew himself from the smaller man, rolling onto his side. He placed a tender kiss on Link’s temple, smiling into his hair. “Holy shit,” the brunet remarked, an exhausted grin painted over his features. “Wow.”  
     “Wow is right,” Rhett said, unable to wipe the smile from his face. He pulled the brunet tightly against his chest, curling his arm underneath the smaller man’s shoulders and tugging an unzipped sleeping bag over their exposed flesh. “I love you so much, Link.”  
     “I love you too, Rhett.”

     The chemicals in their systems had run their course, leaving both men in a pleasant afterglow. Their skin still tingled where their bodies touched, and their hearts still beat heavily in their chests, altogether amazed at the pleasure of one another’s comforting presence as they drifted into a heavy slumber.  



	8. Day Eight

**DAY EIGHT**  
_Sunday, September 6th_

     The brunet roused first, his sleep broken and fitful. He stared emptily at the ceiling of the tent, slowly rippling in the breeze, his limbs heavy like lead. With a sigh he rolled over to face the tall blond sleeping next to him. Rhett’s chest gently rose and fell with tiny sporadic snores. Link took in his strong, arched brows, the curl of his dark lashes. He reached his weighty arm out, and brushed the tiny freckle underneath the blond’s right cheek with the pad of his thumb, softly tracing down his face to his upper lip, where he knew a mole lay hidden beneath his mustache. He gently drew lines between the freckles on his chest, creating starbursts and constellations.  
     “Hey,” Rhett said quietly, his voice croaky and hoarse, blinking the sleep away from his eyes.  
     “Hey.”

     A weak smile danced across the blond’s lips as he brushed the brunet’s dark fringe across his forehead, pushing the feebly glowing violet ring still nestled in his bed-ruffled locks onto his pillow. “You feelin’ alright?”  
     “I guess so,” the brunet replied, his eyes resting softly closed as he moved into the larger man’s touch. “I just feel totally wiped, man. Like I didn’t sleep a wink.” The blond hummed empathetically.  
     “Yeah, I’m kinda drained too,” he said. The brunet shifted closer to Rhett, resting his head atop his shoulder and pressing his nose into his chest, inhaling his thick, woody musk.  
     “I never thought we’d do that, Rhett,” Link said, his voice muffled against his companion’s skin.  
     “Do what?”  
     “All of it. Drugs. Sex.” He let out a muted scoff. “When we left L.A. I didn’t really think we’d end up fucking.”  
     “Hah. Me neither.” Rhett knit his eyebrows together as he rubbed his wide palm across the brunet’s back, relishing the smooth expanse between his jutting scapulae. As his fingers waltzed over his protruding vertebrae, he thought that the smaller man might have slimmed down further during their week in the desert, small meals and physical activity depleting the man’s already negligible fat stores. “You need to eat something.”  
     “Hmph. Not hungry,” the brunet muttered.  
     “Liar. We barely ate anything yesterday,” the blond countered.  
     “I’ve got zero appetite, man. And I can’t live another day on granola bars and apples. I _won’t_.”  
     “I know,” the blond let out a small, soft laugh. “I’ll scrape something together. It’s our last day here, we don’t really have to ration anymore.” He pressed his lips firmly against the smaller man’s forehead. “C’mon.” Link groaned but stirred nonetheless, pulling himself upright and sliding his thick-framed glasses onto his face.

     They dressed slowly, taking note of their sore, aching muscles. When they emerged from the tent, they were met by a low, rumbling sound, reverberating all around Black Rock City. “What’s that?” Link asked, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the harsh desert sun. The blond paused to consider, when a cheeky grin played across his lips.  
     “That’s car engines, Link.” The brunet’s eyebrows shot upward as his lips formed a slack _O_.  
     “Woah,” he said with a small, lopsided grin. “I guess it’s been a while.” As he studied the landscape around him, he noticed that tents around them were collapsing in droves, burners around them were packing up and heading out in herds, leaving vacant spaces on the previously packed playa. “How come all these people are leaving? It’s not over yet, is it?” A tinge of panic penetrated his voice.  
     “No, it’s not over yet. There’s still the Temple Burn tonight. But I s’pose it’s like the Exodus has started. I guess a lot of people leave right after The Man burns,” Rhett explained as Link let out a small sigh of relief.  
     “Makes sense.”

     The blond tore their food stores apart, attempting to create some semblance of a meal. He cracked their last few eggs into a pan on the Coleman, reluctantly tipping some slimy remnants of chopped peppers in along with them, before emptying their last package of beef jerky in with the eggy mixture. Link eyed him apprehensively, bunching up his nose at the concoction. “Protein,” the blond explained with a half-hearted shrug.  
     “That’s gonna be kinda chewy, man,” the brunet chided.  
     “You hungry or what?” Rhett asked, a hand on his hip and brandishing his spatula.  
     “Not really,” Link replied dismissively.  
     “Just shut up and eat it,” the blond replied with a sigh, splitting the slightly singed scramble onto two plates.

     Link accepted the plate and looked down at it with mild revulsion before sinking into his chair, wincing dramatically as his thighs and glutes and abs screamed with a pang of discomfort. The blond poured up two cups of coffee before took his place beside his partner as the smaller man pushed his eggs around his plate, attempting to stomach the occasional bite. Link slid his plate aside shortly after, leftover lumps of egg and jerky tumbling onto the dusty earth, as he slumped deeper into his chair, hands folded over his somersaulting belly, eyes closed and letting his head loll over the canvas back. “I can’t eat that,” he muttered. “It’s gonna make me retch.” Rhett studied his brother pensively over his breakfast.  
     “What’s wrong with you, man?” the blond asked brusquely. Link hummed, peeking one eye open under a lifted brow.  
     “I’m totally zapped, Rhett.”  
     “Alright…” the blond shrugged, scratching patterns into the silty earth with the toe of his shoe. “You seem pissed off.” Link groaned, running his hands through his hair, long and tangled.  
     “I’m burnt out, man. And I’m scared. I miss Christy and the kids. And I feel so fucking guilty.” He sighed as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyeing his tall companion despondently. “But I love this. I love you. And that scares me too.” Rhett nodded empathetically.  
     “I know.”  
     “And it’s all coming to an end, Rhett. I don’t wanna talk about it.”  
     “We should… we should figure out what we’re gonna do.”  
     “Not now, Rhett. I don’t wanna ruin today.” The brunet shook his head. “I’m sorry for being a grouch. I just want today to be great and I don’t wanna get into that stuff yet.” Rhett furrowed his brows and dipped his head, pressing a single finger to his lips.  
     “Okay, Link.” He slid off his chair, dropping to his knees on the warm, alkaline silt, shuffling between the brunet’s feet. He looked up at Link’s beautiful, sullen face, cupping his cheeks tenderly. “Let’s make today great.” He pulled the smaller man’s lips toward his own, brushing his thumbs across the dense stubble creeping up the brunet’s face. Link smiled into the kiss, his tongue diving in between the blond’s lips, his hands running through his dark honey hair, bracing the back of Rhett’s neck as his wrists rested softly on his shoulders.  
     “Thanks, Rhett.” The blond nuzzled his nose against Link’s ear, letting a quiet puff of breath skim the sensitive skin there.  
     “Of course.” He planted a brief kiss on the brunet’s forehead before getting to his feet, holding his hands out for the smaller man. “But we can’t mope around our camp all day. Let’s do something.” Link took his hands, and the giant gently brought the slight man upright.  
     “What do you wanna do?”  
     “I’m not really sure,” Rhett shrugged. “We can just explore a bit. One last time.” He gestured toward their bicycles, hastily discarded in a pile the night before. Link’s brow creased nervously.  
     “I, err— I don’t know If I can do the bikes just yet,” he said swallowing hard as his hands flew to his backside, rubbing the sore muscles timidly. Rhett smirked.  
     “Oh,” the blond said, an eyebrow arching in sympathetic bemusement. “Think you can walk, then?” The brunet threw a playful punch into the taller man’s bicep.  
     “Screw you,” he laughed. “You did this to me.” He took a few tentative strides, feeling the low burn in his stretching tendons and ligaments. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

     The pair set off aimlessly, hand in hand. Vehicles came from every direction in a bee-line toward the gates of the city. An unfathomably long line of cars and campers idled noisily down the already narrow streets. “It seems crazy to think we haven’t driven in a car for so long,” the brunet mused. “Do you remember the last time you went longer than a week without driving?”  
     “Yeah,” Rhett chuckled. “When I was fifteen.”  
     “It’s been nice though, hasn’t it?” the brunet asked. “Not having to worry about appointments or schedules or meetings or anything like that. Just taking it day by day.”  
     “Yeah, it has.” Rhett smiled, squeezing Link’s hand in his. “It’s been nice.”

     They wandered through the streets, watching tents collapse, burners stuffing their camping gear hastily into the backs of vehicles, skimming their vacated plots for any garbage left behind. The wind blew in fitful bursts, sending clouds of dust careening like intermittent tidal waves over the playa, but the sun was warm and the sky was a cloudless blue. Before long, they found themselves in a small clearing with an assortment of sculptures. They bobbed between the statues, lightheartedly bickering over whether or not a super-sized statue of a wooden toilet should be considered ‘art.’ “This thing is amazing, brother!” Rhett certainly seemed to think so. They walked out of the clearing, down another crowded street, and into another art glade. A giant hammock swayed suspended by thick ropes and two steel bars in the centre of the area. The burgundy crushed velvet fabric caught the wind like a sail and flapped erratically.  
     “Wanna get in?” Link asked his companion, with a subdued look of amusement. Rhett raised his eyebrows and laughed.  
     “Why not?” he replied. The brunet lead them toward the swinging bundle of cloth, tugging on the blond’s hand. He stopped as they came closer. “Are you gonna get in too?” Rhett asked.  
     “Yeah, I think so,” Link said. “Looks big enough.” He pulled the hammock out towards them, opening up the long, silky textile. “You first,” he said with a laugh. “Get in.” Rhett laughed along with him, settling himself down before swinging his long limbs over the side. He stretched out, feeling weightless and snug.  
     “Alright, Link,” he said, attempting to scoot over enough to make room for the smaller man without setting his center of gravity off enough to send himself tumbling onto the dusty ground. “C’mon in.” The brunet hesitated, unsure how to lob himself into the hammock. After a moment of contemplation, he lowered himself in, legs awkwardly pushing off the ground, setting them off in a gentle sway. The blond put an arm out, and Link laid his head to rest there, throwing one knee over the taller man’s thighs and weaving his fingers into Rhett’s hand. The high afternoon sun beamed down on them, warm and inviting. Rhett hummed a little tune as he leaned his head against the brunet’s, the faint vibrations in his chest sending a wave of chills down Link’s spine. The sides of the hammock went up high around them, like a cozy cocoon, enough that it completely blocked the gusts of wind.  
     “This is nice, Rhett,” Link said, breathing in the oaky musk of his companion.  
     “Mmhm,” the blond agreed. “This is great.” The pair settled into their toasty oasis, a bundle of fabric somewhere in the middle of the twisting streets of Black Rock City, Link dozing off first, followed quickly by Rhett.

     The blond woke first, unsure how long they’d slept. The sun was low on the horizon, beams of rosy orange light were beginning to streak the sky. The two men were covered in a fine layer of white dust, which had slowly accumulated over the course of the afternoon. Rhett smiled into the smaller man’s hair. “Link,” he whispered. “Wake up.” He pressed a kiss onto his dusty forehead.  
     “Hmm?”  
     “We should get back to camp soon,” the blond said quietly. “We’ve gotta get to the Temple at sundown.” Link groaned, burying his face deeper into the crevasse between the blond’s neck and shoulder.  
     “I don’t wanna get up,” he whined.  
     “I know,” Rhett said with a chuckle. “But we gotta. C’mon, get up.” He tapped his fingers patiently on the back of the brunet’s hand. Link yawned, arching his chest into the blond until his back popped.  
     “Alright, alright. Let’s go.” He swung his feet over the edge of the fabric, carefully pulling himself out of the hammock, careful not to tip the swaying blond over. When he’d gained his footing, he extended both hands out to Rhett, helping him to his feet.

     By the time the pair made it back to their campsite, stars were beginning to peek through the darkening sky. “Shoot,” Rhett muttered under his breath. “We’ll be late if we walk. Think you can manage a little bike ride now?” he asked the brunet. Link grimaced again, his eyebrows furrowed.  
     “Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I think so.” His hands gently rubbed his tender rear. “It’s not gonna be fun though.”  
     “We’ll take it slow,” the taller man said, coming face to face with the brunet. He let his palms run down the smaller man’s sides, resting them on his hips. “And we’ll try to avoid the bumpy parts.” He slid his soft, wide hands down the back of Link’s loose jeans, underneath his boxer-briefs, letting his hands rest on the smooth skin of his delicate rump. Link’s breath hitched in the back of his throat, his eyes glistening as he looked up at the gentle giant. A small smile tickled at the corners of his lips.  
     “You promise?”  
     “Of course,” Rhett said, swooping in to press his lips against the smaller man’s.

     The pair broke apart, scrambling to gather their flashlights and sweaters. Link paused, feeling the cool breeze of twilight seeping through his hoodie. He rooted through his backpack, finding the keys to the Cruiser, unlocking the doors.  
     “What’re you lookin’ for, Link?” the blond asked. “We gotta get going.”  
     “I know,” Link said, his upper body leaned over the back seat. “It’s just getting kinda cold,” he explained, as he emerged from the vehicle with a small throw blanket. “And maybe I can use this for a bit of cushioning.” He laughed as he folded the blanket over his bicycle seat, tying it snug.

     Rhett lead the way, taking care to veer around lumps and ridges in the silty ground. He peered over his shoulder to see Link, balancing precariously on a folded lump of fabric, his thighs warbling and teeth barred shut. They took their time, slowly arcing around the vast pile of charcoal and ash where The Man once stood, where they had spent a magical portion of their evening the night before. They curved their path around burners walking on foot, toward the looming Temple in the distance, it’s striking arches illuminated from within. The bike racks had been moved back, leaving room for the thousands of burners to gather around the transcendental shrine. They docked their bicycles, wading into the crowd. A circle around the Temple was cordoned off, leaving a hefty barrier between the masses and the ominous sanctuary. The pair tiptoed around hundreds of seated burners until they found a small patch to settle into, lowering themselves onto the stark playa. Link threw the small blanket over his and Rhett’s shoulders, as their gaze fixated on the elegant archway ahead of them.

     “It’s quiet,” Link whispered. The atmosphere couldn’t have been more different from the night before. Instead of hoots and hollers and the low rumble of anticipation, there was the quiet whistle of the wind and the solemn hush of the unknown. The shuffling of feet and muffled coughs pierced the stillness of the crowd. They could’ve been completely alone or amongst thousands of reverent disciples, it was impossible to tell. Rhett let out a slow exhale.  
     “It’s eerie,” he said under his breath. As the last light of dusk disappeared beyond the hills, torches in the distance flared up in glowing orange flames. “This is it, Link.” The torches seemed to bob around the Temple uncarried, floating in the darkness. The brunet shivered, pulling the blanket tightly around his shoulders, leaning into the tall blond for warmth. Rhett wrapped a long arm around the brunet’s back as the torches dipped low, igniting the Temple from all around at the base. The crowd seemed to hold its breath as the tiny flames licked at the bottom of the shrine, plumes of black smoke rising high into the dark, desert sky.

     The flames crept higher, charring the messages scrawled onto the planks of the Temple walls and fire lapped at the underside of the inverted parabolas, causing the structure to creak. Link shuddered as he groped blindly in Rhett’s lap for his free hand, his eyes transfixed on the blaze ahead of him. The blond squeezed Link’s hand tightly in his, feeling the smaller man’s pulse thumping distinctly through his palm. He pictured his note, hung high on a canvas strip, tied to an iron tree at the centre of the Temple grove, withering away as the flames consumed it. He bit the inside of his cheek as he thought about everything he’d experienced leading up to that moment. _Seeing_ Link, not just looking at him, but really _seeing_ him, for the first time in over thirty years. Seeing the men that he and Link had become, together, as a unit, but always an arm’s reach apart. Until now. Until they’d stepped foot onto the silty, alkaline lake-bed, surrounded by free love and the uncrushable spirit of the people around them; surrounded by the magic in the dust that followed them everywhere they went. He silently thanked God that he was finally able to reach out and touch the man at his fingertips, his wild raven locks and bright cornflower blue eyes. His perfect plump lips, the sharp angle of his jaw and the dark trail of curly hair beneath his belly button. Finally realizing that they weren’t just a part of each other’s lives, but a part of _each other_ , inexplicably linked forever. Friend. Brother. Soulmate. Lover.

     As the flames finally engulfed the peak of the shrine in a raging inferno, he looked down at his companion, wrapped in a blanket and nestled into his side. Tears silently streaked the brunet’s face, glimmering as they reflected the bonfire ahead of them.  
     “Are you okay?” the blond asked, his own eyes welling to the brim. Link sniffed as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve.  
     “Yeah,” he replied, his voice no louder than a whisper. “Just sad.” He turned to the blond, dark lashes fluttering as a fresh set of tears ran down his cheeks anew. “I’m— I’m gonna miss this place, Rhett.” The blond placed a wistful kiss on the top of Link’s head; salty, warm droplets falling onto the brunet’s tangled hair.  
     “I know,” Rhett said quietly. “I’m gonna miss it too.”

     Before long, the creaking of the disintegrating foundation of the Temple became groans of stress, boards breaking away and falling into the depths of the pyre. The mammoth entrance archway teetered, crackling and trembling until it let out a deafening _whoosh_ as it tipped onto the ground, sending a black cloud of dust and smoke billowing into the air. The pair sat completely still until the skeleton of the shrine withered away to a smoldering pile of incandescent embers, the magnificent architecture utterly destroyed, surrounding an otherworldly garden grove of stark, leafless, iron trees in a smoky haze. The crowd began to stir, faint whispers emerging from the soundless hush. The quiet resonance of slow, throbbing drums began to waft around the assembly, shifting the melancholy burners from their trance. Link adjusted his glasses before looking up at the blond. “Wanna go home?” he asked. Rhett gently shook himself out of a daze before nodding.  
     “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

     The pair stood amongst the thinning crowd, brushing the dust off of each other before setting off toward their bikes, clasping one another’s hand. Neither was in a hurry to reach their destination, occupied with thoughts of _lasts_. The last time they’d make the journey back to their camp. The camp which they’d made a home; a home with a single tent and a campfire and a Coleman stove, but most importantly, each other. The last time they’d stoke a fire on the playa and the last time they’d go to bed together, hearts racing and hands exploring one another’s bodies, still so agonizingly new and electrifying. The last time they’d close their eyes to sleep at Burning Man, and the last time they’d wake up there.

     When they reached their bikes, Link wrapped his seat up in the blanket again before the two men set off again in a slow, steady pace, flashlights in one hand and steering with the other. Their camp was completely dark when they arrived so the blond didn’t waste any time before setting their last few logs into the hearth, sparking the kindling, and setting them ablaze. Link pawed through their reserves and found one final bottle of red wine, uncorking it and pouring up a glass for himself and his partner. “Here,” he said as he gently passed the glass to the blond. “Drink up, it’s gonna be a long night.” Rhett nodded, swirling the vintage and getting lost in the burgundy shiraz ripples.  
     “To Burning Man?” he asked, raising his glass up to the smaller man, a sad smile dusting his stern features. Link nodded too, clinking his cup against Rhett’s.  
     “To Burning Man.”

     They settled in to their chairs, mesmerized by the crackling flame, slowly sipping on the firewater in their glasses. Link sighed, stretching his legs out in front of him, bumping his foot against the tall blond’s.

     “Excuse me?” A female voice rang in from the road. “Hi boys, sorry to interrupt.” An older woman emerged from the darkness, illuminated by the flickering light of their fire. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, her eyes, which were magnified by her glasses, were kind, and her sandy blonde hair was ruffled by the wind. The men thought that the familiar smell of marijuana wafted in with her, but couldn’t be sure.  
     “C’mon in, no problem,” the blond said, waving her closer.  
     “We saw you guys ride in from the Temple Burn,” she explained. “I’m just down the road a little bit.” In her hands was a paper plate covered by a domed layer of aluminum foil. “We just cooked up the last of our food, and we’ve got some extra. Figured you two skinny boys might be hungry.” Link’s eyes widened as he eyed the plate ravenously.  
     “F—food?” he squeaked out sheepishly, the wine in his empty belly sloshed as his stomach churned. The woman laughed.  
     “It’s just a couple burgers. The buns might be a bit stale by now but they’re still good.” The brunet leapt to his feet, achy muscles forgotten. He held out his palm to shake the woman’s hand.  
     “You must be an angel, ma’am. What’s your name?” She let out a warm, hearty laugh.  
     “Linda. Nice to meet some lovely boys like yourselves.” She handed the plate to Link whose hands shook as he accepted the precious parcel. “I’ll be on my way then, you two have a good night now.” The men stuttered their gratitude, trying to offer the woman anything they had in return. She dismissed them generously, happy to share.

     Link nearly sobbed at the sight of the two perfect cheeseburgers sitting on the plate as he ripped the foil off once the woman had wandered out of sight. He took one and thrust the plate at the seated blond, sinking his teeth through the crusty roll, moaning audibly as a shiny trickle of grease ran down his chin. He collapsed into his chair, eyes closed in rapture, chewing the burger slowly and carefully, savoring each bite. “Looks like you finally got your burger,” the blond said, his eyes twinkling as he eyed the brunet’s obvious pleasure.  
     “This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth, Rhett.” The blond cocked a dark eyebrow. “Well,” Link coughed, blinking quickly as his brows shot up, disappearing into his hair. “Maybe the second best thing.” He blushed a fierce crimson before averting his eyes from the other man and taking a deep pull from his glass.

     Link avoided the blond’s gaze as he finished his unexpected dinner. The blond devoured his ration as well, licking his fingers as he popped the last bite into his mouth. He could feel the tension radiating off of Link’s skin, hotter than the lapping flames beside them. “So,” Rhett started. “Are we gonna figure this out?” Link let out a drawn-out exhale.  
     “Yeah. I think we have to.”  
     “Okay. Tomorrow morning we pack up, we’re back in L.A. by sundown. What next? What do we do?” the blond asked.  
     “I dunno, Rhett. We go home to our wives. Isn’t that what we have to do?”  
     “Yeah, of course it is. But… what do we tell them?” Rhett rubbed his damp palms against the fabric of his jeans. Link took another swill of his wine and let his head hang between his shoulders.  
     “I— I can’t, Rhett. I can’t tell her anything,” the brunet replied. “Christy’ll kill me. She’d murder me right in front of the kids.” He let out a mirthless laugh. “I’d be ruined. My family would be ruined.” He looked up to see the blond with his eyebrows knit together and chewing on his lower lip. “You can’t think that Jessie would be okay with this?” Rhett closed his eyes and shook his head.  
     “No. She’d lose it.” He took long gulp from his cup. “But… What are _we_ gonna do then? I— I don’t wanna go back to a world where I can’t have you.” His heart raced beneath his ribcage.  
     “I think… I think we have to go back to that world, Rhett,” Link said, sorrow glistening in his eyes as he watched the blond begin to crumble before him.  
     “But, if we don’t tell the girls, why can’t we just work late an extra night of the week?” His voice hitched; bargaining, pleading.  
     “At the office? Are you crazy? Too many eyes, Rhett. Too many eyes and ears and we’d never get away with it. Wouldn’t that be worse? Worse for them to catch wind of rumors? Besides, we already work late too much as it is. Christy wouldn't be happy about that, either.” He shook his head and ran his fingers through his dark hair.  
     “C’mon, Link. Please. We can make this work, we can”— Rhett sputtered as the brunet cut him off.  
     “We _can’t_ , Rhett. It’s too dangerous. I— I can’t put my family through that.”  
     “ _Dammit_ ,” the blond hissed, heat rising in his face. “Don’t you want this?” he asked, tears stinging in his eyes.  
     “Shit, Rhett. Of _course_ I do,” Link cried, exasperated. “But we can’t have the best of both worlds. We have to choose. And I have to choose her, Rhett, I _have_ to.” His jaw locked as he swallowed hard.

     Rhett buried his face in his hands, unable to look at the brunet before him. He took a few slow, steadying breaths. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick.”  
     “I’m _trying_ , Rhett. I’m trying to find a way that we could make this work. I just don’t think it can. We’ve made a commitment. I’ve gotta do what’s right for my family.”  
     “I know, I know. I just feel like this is a dream. Or a freaking nightmare.” The blond ran his fingers through his beard, staring blankly into the dancing flames.

     Link let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raw and crackling.  
     “Don’t be,” Rhett said, finally making eye contact with the smaller man. “You’re right, Link. Of course that’s what we’ve gotta do.” He let out a long exhale. “Do you want me to sleep in the car tonight?” The brunet pulled himself out of his chair, and approached the seated blond, taking his big hands within his own.  
     “ _Rhett_. I want you in that tent tonight with me. I want you as close as I can possibly have you.” He placed a tender kiss on back of each of the taller man’s hands. “I want— I want to love you tonight like it’s… like it’s…”  
     “Like it’s what?  
     “Like it’s the last time I’ll be able to touch you.”

     Rhett tugged on the brunet’s hands, pulling the smaller man onto his lap, his slight thighs draped across his own. He cradled the brunet’s face in his hands and kissed him earnestly, a fresh set of salty tears running down his cheeks. “I love you, Link,” he whispered against the brunet’s lips. “I’m always gonna love you.” Link wrapped his arms around the blond’s neck, their foreheads resting against one another.  
     “I love you too, Rhett.” Their lips connected again, tongue brushing against tongue. Rhett’s hands ran down the brunet’s sides, settling at his narrow waist, pulling his torso flush against his own. “God,” Link whispered. “This isn’t fair.”  
     “I know.”

     A gust of wind blew through their camp, sending a wave of dust and smoke over the pair, irritating their eyes. Link buried his face into the blond’s shoulder, hiding away from the squall. “Let’s go to bed, Rhett,” the brunet murmured into the other man’s neck. The chair underneath Rhett creaked as the man stood up, his hands bracing the brunet as he helped prop him up on lean legs. They quenched the fire and headed into their tent, glasses of wine forgotten as they zipped themselves away from Black Rock City one final time.

     They sat across from one another in the tent, studying each other each other in the dark with pupils blown, unmoving. Their quiet breathing and the howling bursts of the wind were the only sounds in a silent orchestra. Link moved first, crawling to his knees and straddling the cross-legged blond, lowering his round rump into the other man’s lap and wrapping his legs around him. He ran his hands through Rhett’s hair, and left a trail of soft kisses down his temple. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you, Rhett,” he whispered, breaking their silence. “I’m gonna miss touching you and being close to you and”—  
     “Shh,” Rhett said, placing his long index finger against the brunet’s lips. “Don’t. It’s gonna be okay.” He pressed a deliberate kiss against the sharp angle of the smaller man’s jaw. “It’ll be okay.” Link looked at him with glassy eyes and nodded in understanding.

     Their mouths met again and again in the void, skirting fingertips whispering apologies onto each other’s skin, chests pressed against one another, hearts pounding like two thunderstorms of regret and missed opportunity.

     Rhett slid his broad hands underneath the brunet’s thin, cotton t-shirt, caressing the silken skin of his ribcage, pulling his shirt up, up, up, until he guided it slowly over the smaller man’s head. He gently took Link’s glasses off of his face, carefully folding the arms and setting the plastic frames out of harm’s way. The brunet blinked slowly, his dilated pupils piercing Rhett’s. He nibbled on his lower lip as his trembling hands reached up, unhurriedly unfastening the buttons of the blond’s short-sleeved flannel at his sternum, delicately moving lower and lower, until the garment hung loose at his shoulders. Rhett shrugged the shirt off before embracing the brunet’s perfectly symmetrical face, letting his hands delicately run down his neck and chest, coming to rest at the slight indent of his waist. Link’s eyes fluttered closed, his head reclining in tormented bliss. The blond took his chance to leave a constellation of kisses at the smaller man’s throat, over the prominent bulge of cartilage of his neck, the sensitive divots of flesh beneath his ears, the small u-shaped dip where his clavicles met. “I love every part of you, Link,” he breathed. “Every little inch of skin. Every muscle, every scar.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over the receptive nub of the brunet’s nipple, a slight smile dusting his lips when it firmed beneath his finger. Link let out a strangled gasp, raking his nails through Rhett’s disheveled blond hair.  
     “G-god, Rhett,” he whispered, his voice matching his shaky hands grasping at the hair at the nape of the bearded man’s neck. He pushed his lips against the other man’s, a hint of desperation dancing on his tongue. “God, I need you, Rhett. I need this.”  
     “I’m not going anywhere, Link. I’ll be right here,” the taller man said, aching; wistful. “I’ll always be here. Always.”

     The brunet slowly began to roll his hips into the blond’s, feeling the friction of Rhett’s abdomen against the growing bulge in his jeans, feeling his lover’s own arousal stirring beneath him. Link ran his palms down his lover’s chest, slowly pushing the taller man onto his back, straddling his hips as he mouthed lazily on the blond’s collarbone. He let one hand crawl slowly down the blond’s chest, drawing whorls and stars down his tacky skin, before reaching between his own legs to the band of Rhett’s jeans, stretched taut over his swelling manhood. Link shifted himself further downwards, coming to rest on his haunches between the giant’s thighs; his lips following the path laid down by his fingers, gently brushing the salty skin below them. A quiet groan escaped the blond’s throat, low and reverberating as the brunet grasped at the button and zipper on his jeans.  
     “Lift up,” Link whispered against the soft flesh of Rhett’s stomach, his fingers swooping below the elastic band of his underwear. The blond did as he was told, arching his hips upward as Link slid his pants out from under him, fondly letting out a soft laugh as the brunet struggled to tug his big feet out from the slim openings of his jeans. When he’d finally succeeded, Rhett was laid bare; exposed and nude on his back, his chest heaving and eyes wide and pleading. Link bowed his head, hands grasping the blond’s hips as his slick lips skimmed the tip of his lover’s swollen sex. A faint moan of pleasure escaped the taller man as his lips wrapped around him, mouthing softly at the tip of his member; musky, salty, oaky, and of course, uniquely _Rhett_.  
     “God,” Link whispered, sending a meaningful glance up his partner’s torso, settling deep in his olive gaze. “You taste so good, Rhett.”  
     “ _Shit_ , Link,” the blond rasped, feeling Link’s soft, hot, wet tongue gliding down his shaft. “ _Shit_.” The brunet took his length in his hand, lips travelling down until they reached his sac, his tongue gently thrusting out in long, firm strokes, lapping away at the sensitive flesh there. Rhett grit his teeth together, biting back a moan; the muscles in his thighs jerked every time Link’s hand pumped him to a careful, steady rhythm. He propped his upper body up on his forearms, watching the brunet slide his slippery lips up to the tip, engulfing him in his warm, moist mouth. “God Link,” he murmured, his breath thick with love and lust and longing and the unshakable weight of a heavy heart. “God, you’re gorgeous.” Link’s pupils shot up to meet his own, his wet lips brushing the tip of his throbbing sex, a curved brow inching toward his shaggy, ruffled fringe. “I… erm. I mean, you’re beautiful.” A pointed canine sunk into the brunet’s fleshy lower lip, a cocky smirk tugging at his cheeks. “You’re perfect,” Rhett tried once more.  
     “I thought I was flawed?” he asked, a coy smile toying at the corners of his mouth.  
     “Shut up,” Rhett said with grin as his face flushed, grabbing the brunet by his wrist, and pulling the smaller man up so their mouths could meet, bare chest pressed against bare chest.

     The blond gently lowered the smaller man onto the ground beside him, a big palm frisking down his undulating rib cage. “Take these off,” he requested, giving a gentle tug on Link’s belt loop. He pressed a kiss onto Link’s forehead. “I wanna see you.” Link smiled under the blond’s lips, eyes resting softly closed as his large but nimble fingers unclasped the button and slowly drew the zipper down at his groin. Rhett delicately peeled the worn denim down his lover’s legs, letting out a small gasp when his swollen member bounced free. He grasped it quickly, as Link thrust his hips uncontrollably into the blond’s hand, a labored, shaky breath escaping his lips.  
     “Mmm,” the brunet moaned, burying his face into Rhett’s shoulder, one hand softly clawing at his chest. The blond captured his lips in his again, turning his hips so they faced Link’s squarely, and encompassed both of their members in his broad hand, stroking them both in unison. He built his pace, slow at first, then quicker and quicker; the long, lean muscles of his forearm flexing in the dim light of the tent. Link broke the kiss and placed a timid hand on the blond’s wrist. “Slow down,” he whispered, his breath wafting over the blond’s lips. “I want— I want this to last forever.” Rhett heeded his warning, nestling his nose into the brunet’s unruly hair, breathing him in deep. He pumped them both at a tantalizing, torturously slow pace, his arousal twitching at every involuntary squeak and whimper that passed between Link’s lips.

 

     After what seemed like a skin-prickling eternity, the brunet gently pushed the blond’s hand away and wrenched a leg over Rhett’s hips, pulling himself upright above his lover. He took one of the other man’s hands between his own, smoothing the silky skin of his forearm, pressing tiny kisses onto the pads of each of his fingertips, the creases of his wrist, the center of his palm. He wriggled his hips, and reached a hand behind him to guide his Rhett’s stiff erection into the crevasse between his cheeks, causing them both to groan at the sensation of one another’s heat. Link let the blond’s hand drop as his arms hung limp at his sides, his neck lax and head rolling back at his shoulders. Rhett’s breath hitched in his throat as he slid one hand up Link’s soft thigh, the other grasping his gently bobbing member.  
     “Rhett,” Link whispered after a few minutes of grinding into the taller man. “I want you.” His bright blue eyes glimmered in the dark, charged and imploring. “Please.” Rhett pulled himself up on an elbow, letting go of Link’s sex to nestle his hand into the brunet’s tangled mane, pulling his lips toward his own.  
     “Do you want me to get one of the”— Link cut him off as he reached toward the corner of their tent for a pair of shorts he had deposited there a few days prior.  
     “No.” He pressed one hand to the center of Rhett’s chest, gently pushing him back onto the ground, softly pinning him there. “ _No_. I want you as you are, Rhett. I don’t want a layer of rubber between us. I wanna feel _you_.”  
     “ _Link_ ,” the blond said pointedly, stern. “It’s gonna hurt you. I don’t— I can’t do that.”  
     “I… I think I’ve got an idea,” Link said quickly, leaning in to press a swift kiss onto Rhett’s lips before scrambling toward the entrance to the tent on his hands and knees. “Wait here,” he said, throwing a quick glance over his shoulders as Rhett watched his round, shapely behind disappear out the flap of the tent. He heard Link swear as his shins crashed into one of their chairs, and the frantic unzipping of his backpack. He listened intently as he heard the jingle of keys and the quiet synchronized pop of the Cruiser doors unlocking. He heard Link mutter as he shifted through their luggage in the back seat, and the click of the door when he closed it.

     He clambered back into the tent, zipping it closed behind him haphazardly, his fist gripped around a small plastic container. “Okay,” he said, stepping one foot over the reclining blond and settling down on his abdomen. “I think this might work.”  
     “What is it?” Rhett asked, unable to get a good look through Link’s clenched fingers. A risqué smile spread across the brunet’s face, his nose wrinkling and upper lip pulling away to expose his straight, white teeth. He leaned down and placed an affectionate kiss on the tip of Rhett’s nose before unfurling his hand, displaying a tiny blue tub.  
     “Vaseline?” the blond remarked.  
     “From the first aid kit. Think it’ll do the trick?” Link asked. Rhett swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly going dry in anticipation as he nodded, his big hands sliding up his lover’s thighs once more.  
     “Yeah. I think that’ll work.”

     Link’s hands shook as he unscrewed the lid, dipping his fingers into the translucent gel. He reached behind him, taking the blond’s stiff member in his slippery grip. Rhett let out a soft groan at the sensation of the cool balm and Link’s hand around him before taking the small container from his lover and swirling his middle finger around, coating it on all sides. He reached a long arm behind the brunet, lightly tracing his finger down the small of his back and between his cheeks until he reached Link’s tense opening. The brunet released a strangled moan as he leaned down onto Rhett’s torso, his eyelids fluttering closed and breath wafting into the fine patch of hair that covered his chest. The blond pressed a kiss to Link’s temple as he tentatively pushed his finger past the tight ring of muscle, sliding in easily with the addition of the lubricant.  
     “Mmm,” the brunet husked. “Oh god, yes.” Rhett slowly began to glide his finger in and out, encouraged by the fervid string of slurred expletives that spilled from Link’s lips. He added another finger, which the brunet met with an open-mouthed groan, his brows knitted in unrestrained rapture. Before long, Link began to roll his hips against Rhett’s hand, feeling the friction of the blond’s stomach against his turgid sex. He slowly pushed himself off of Rhett’s chest, eyes heavily lidded and lips red.  
     “I’m ready, Rhett.” He lightly grasped the blond’s wrist, extracting his fingers from himself, before reaching behind him once more, giving the bearded man a few languorous strokes. He positioned his lover at his entrance, one hand on Rhett’s chest holding himself up, before slowly lowering himself down, his breath hitching in his throat at the intrusion. The blond pulled his torso up on his elbows, breath leaving him in uneven bursts, eyes focused on the brunet’s contorted face, his own lips dancing in the air, begging to be kissed. As Link slowly sunk further and further onto the blond’s member, eyes squeezed closed, he reached toward his lover blindly, finding his shoulders first, before clutching his bearded face between his hands. When he found Rhett buried inside himself up to the hilt, he leaned forward and kissed his pleading lips, he found his imploring tongue and felt his heartbeat pounding in every artery.

     Link slid his feet up underneath his hips and splayed his hands across the blond’s chest, pressing him down onto their bedspread. The lean muscle of his thighs flexed as he slowly drew himself up, his jaw trembling, before allowing gravity to help him down again.  
     “S-shit, Link,” the blond stuttered, watching himself disappearing into Link’s body over and over again. He felt every ripple of his lover around him, hot and wet and slick and _tight_. “ _Fuck_.” He let the brunet set the pace, revelling in every sharp angle and soft curve of Link’s body, the way his taut stomach tightened as he hoisted himself up and the way his thick mane of hair clung to the budding moisture on his forehead. He dipped his fingers in the small vat of petroleum jelly again, reaching out to grasp Link’s bouncing member, eliciting a sharp inhale from the brunet.  
     “Fuck, Rhett,” he growled, slamming himself onto his lover harder and harder with each stroke of his hand. “C’mon,” he ordered, breathless. “C’mon, fuck me.” The blond heeded his request, lifting his hips to meet the brunet on every down stroke, the force between them magnified.  
     “God, Link,” the blond groaned. “You feel incredible.” He let go of Link’s sex, his hands grazing over the silky mounds of his cheeks, before settling onto his waist. He noticed the brunet’s legs beginning to quiver from exertion so he helped lift the slight man up and pulled him down hard onto himself in a continuous wave of motion.  
     “Ahh, oh my god,” Link cried out, almost overwhelmed at the intense sensation. Unable to keep himself upright any longer, his thighs quaking, he lowered himself onto his knees, leaning into the blond’s mouth with his own. “God Rhett, please,” he breathed. “Please keep going.” He mouthed at the bearded man’s throat, his hands raking hard through his hair. Rhett bent his knees, giving him some added leverage, as he pumped his hips into the air, connecting again and again with the panting brunet, drawing a ragged inhale from his lover as he finally brushed against Link’s bundle of white-hot nerves. “Ohh,” he whimpered. “Mmm, oh yes.”

     Rhett felt Link’s body go limp on his chest, completely at the mercy of his own pleasure. The blond took the cue to carefully tip his lover onto his back, never breaking their contact, still tightly nestled between Link’s thighs. He rained a shower of heated kisses down the brunet’s cheek before taking his lips with his own, slowing the pace of his gyrating hips.  
     “Rhett,” Link murmured. “Don’t stop now, god.”  
     “Shh,” the blond hushed, hooking his arm underneath the other man’s thigh, gently pulling it up between their chests. “Trust me.” He leaned forward again, their tongues meeting in a swirling dance of star-crossed lovers, pushing himself deeper into the brunet than ever before, his sex pressed snugly against Link’s tingling gland. The sensation made the brunet gasp into their kiss, drawing the breath out of Rhett’s lungs and into his own.

     The blond slowly began to pulse in and out of Link’s body, their lips never leaving one another, even as their breathing grew heavy and the thrusts of their hips became erratic, eager, fervent. The brunet’s hands clasped onto Rhett’s smooth rump, pulling him into himself, fingernails digging into his pale, fleshy behind. As the blond skimmed the the brunet’s spot with every plunge, Link began to feel his orgasm building deep within his abdomen. He gulped hard, a wordless prayer forming on his lips. Rhett could taste his readiness on his tongue, he could feel it in his clenching hands and his shaky thighs, and he could feel his own release pressing ever closer, too. “Link,” he whispered, his olive eyes burning into his lover’s. “I’m so in love with you.”  
     “G-god, R-Rhett,” the brunet returned, stammering on the blond’s every driving surge. “I lo-love you t-too.” The color rose in Link’s face, dusting his temples and darkening his lips, his eyes drifting closed as his jaw slowly wrenched open. “Oh, oh god, Rhett,” he moaned. “Oh my god.”

     Rhett came first, his lover’s name on his lips, pumping uncontrollably into the brunet as his climax shot through him like a firework. He exploded within him, a flood of stars detonating behind his eyelids, his heart thundering. A scarce moment later, Link let out a long, low, wanton sob as his his orgasm ripped through him, too, his thighs jerking relentlessly. His member spasmed as he coated both of their stomachs in his pearly ejaculate, a swell of ecstasy rushing through his body. The blond collapsed onto him, his skin glistening with sweat. He breathed heavily into Link’s ear, his thumb brushing over the brunet’s lower lip, his jaw, his throat, his collarbones. Uninvited tears pricked at the corners of Rhett’s eyes. “I love you, Link,” he choked. “God, I love you so much.”  
     “Rhett,” the brunet whispered back, his heart still hammering in his chest and feeling consumed by the large man who was still on top of him, still inside of him, both physically and emotionally and in every which way he could conceive. “God, Rhett, I love you too.” The blond slowly rolled off of Link, never quite withdrawing himself, still keeping their tacky bodies pressed into each other. He kissed him again and again, trying to memorize the taste of his lips and the texture of his tongue.

     They kissed until the edges of the sky turned light, never feeling quite close enough, but never feeling less alone.


	9. Day Nine

**DAY NINE**  
_Monday, September 7th_

     The morning came fast and bright and hot as the resolute sun beat down on the Black Rock Desert. The temperature rose quickly in their tent; an incubated pocket of stale, humid air, recycled over and over from the slow, deep breaths of the gently stirring men. The heat eventually drove them from their shelter; reluctant to move from one another’s embrace, hesitant to let go of each other’s hands, begrudgingly placing a painfully permanent buffer of air between their bodies.

     Rhett set their kettle to boil on the Coleman stove before glancing into the empty chasm of their cooler with a sigh. He tipped the plastic container onto its side, blinking slowly as he watched the stagnant water pour onto the white, dusty ground, turning it a murky brown before quickly absorbing into the earth. They sipped their coffee in silence, mentally preparing themselves for the unspoken eventuality— they’d have to pack up and leave Burning Man; leave Black Rock City and the desert and Nevada behind and go back to Los Angeles and work and their families and the lives they’d crafted just beyond one another’s grasp. Neither man felt especially motivated to start stowing away their belongings, but were driven by obligation— by a promise to come home safe and sound. Link paced around their camp, making an internal check-list of things to do; what to fold up and what to throw away and where to put it all within the confines of the FJ Cruiser. The blond glanced over the Burning Man map one last time, looking for whatever guidelines he could find that might direct them through the last steps of their departure. He poured over the small paragraph on the Exodus again and again, swallowing a lump at his throat as he felt bile surge up his esophagus.

      _Leave no trace_. The first line couldn’t have been any more plain or simple, but the phrase echoed within him. Leave no trace of their stay on the playa, every wrapper and beer cap and wine cork and wood chip that they brought in would have to be taken out. Leave no trace of the relationship between them, the lingering glances or the reassuring touch of one another’s hand on a shoulder, the hungry kisses or the rapturous feeling of intimate flesh pressed into intimate flesh. Link eyed him quizzically as a long exhale escaped his lips. He shook his head in response, not wanting to burden the other man with any more than the task already at hand, but felt a pang of guilt in his gut at the sight of a fresh string of small, faint bruises at the other man’s throat. He hoped they’d fade before they got home. As they finished the last sips of their hot, fluid breakfast they set off together at the daunting mission before them.

     Sleeping bags were untangled from each other and rolled up into compressed, squishy cylinders. Their tent collapsed as its skeleton of springy poles was pulled out one by one and the whole structure stuffed inside a nylon bag. Their bikes were secured to the mount on top of the Cruiser, caked-in playa mud nestled deeply into the tread of the tires. The brunet meticulously stacked tupperware tubs snugly in the rear of the vehicle, cushioned by scrupulously folded tarps and bags filled with creased and crumpled clothing.

     As the last vestiges of their camp had been tucked and swept away, albeit slightly less organized than it had been when they arrived, Link shut the rear door of the Cruiser closed with a thump. He let out a long puff of air and studied his partner with knitted brows. The taller man's caramel blond hair hung loose and slightly curly across his forehead, golden highlights catching the sun as he made one final round along the boundary of their plot. Their eyes connected, and with a somersaulting stomach Rhett sent the brunet a bittersweet half-smile before shrugging his shoulders and gesturing his head toward the car. Link swallowed hard as he climbed into the driver’s seat, securing his seatbelt before putting the key in the ignition. Rhett settled in beside him, sliding his seat back as far as it would go to make room for his long legs. The car rumbled to life around them as the brunet turned the key. The wipers automatically slid once across the windshield, clearing off an appreciable arc of fine, white dust. Both men could feel that same fine, alkaline powder pressed into their pores, settled onto their scalps, gathered underneath their fingernails.

     The brunet didn’t need to ask if his partner was ready to go, the blond's downcast stare and subtle nibbling on his lower lip spoke a thousand words for him. Link reached out and took the other man’s large hand in his own, running his thumb over the crests and valleys of his knuckles. It’d be okay. A slight, unconvincing smile pulled at the corners of Rhett’s mouth, as if he was trying to will himself to believe it. Link felt him give his hand a tight squeeze before gently pulling it away, shifting the car into reverse, and slowly backing out of their camp and onto the dirt road.

     It wasn’t long before they hit their first roadblock. The congestion was overwhelming as tens of thousands of vehicles simultaneously made their way toward the same gate; traffic slowed to a puttering crawl before stopping completely. Link growled as he eyed the gauges on his dash anxiously, mentally calculating how many miles they’d have to drive before reaching the next gas station. After ten minutes of idling, the brunet let out a frustrated sigh before rolling down their windows and turning the engine off. He drummed his fingertips on the wheel restlessly, eager to get on the open road— to move— _anything_. The heat built quickly in the car without the air conditioning blasting, even with the windows open. The air was eerily still on the playa that day, and the stifling warmth rapidly pooled around them. The Cruiser was surrounded in all four directions by other vehicles, but, strangely, all of them appeared to be unmanned. The blond craned his neck out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the other drivers— other burners— _anyone_ , as he felt his partner’s patience beginning to wear thin. Rhett’s ears perked up as he heard the faint din of chatter coming from the other side of the RV to his right. He unbuckled his seatbelt and motioned for Link to do the same.

     The pair wandered around the vehicle to find a group of burners seated in lawn chairs hiding out from the harsh rays of the mid-day sun in the narrow shadow cast by the trailer. They were greeted warmly by the small collective, invited to pull up a chair and join in with the chit-chat. The tall blond scratched his head perplexed, and inquired why the burners weren’t in their cars, waiting for the standstill of traffic to shift. A hollow-cheeked man with a short buzz and reflective aviator sunglasses explained the pulse system to guide the flow of traffic— letting out long streams of cars, followed by a full hour at a dead halt. Link scoffed at the suggestion, but the man assured them that in his eight years at Burning Man, the pulse system seemed the best to keep congestion off the highways and keep the drivers somewhat sane— allowing them to rest or stretch their legs at regular intervals, all the while reducing their carbon emissions and saving a bit of gas. The two men continued to exchange pleasantries with the group of burners, but felt rather at a disconnect.

     Suddenly, without warning, a jarring whistle trilled over a megaphone. That was it, in an undeclared motion everyone around them leapt to their feet, lawn chairs hastily folded up and shoved into back seats. In a flash, the roads were vacated and everyone was back in their vehicles, ready for the next surge of movement. The two men followed suit, settling back into the Cruiser, buckling up and revving the engine to life. As the cars ahead of them began to move, Link gingerly pressed into the gas pedal. The gridlock began to loosen, and they found themselves propelling forward at a slow but steady pace. The lanes shifted around them, those to the right streaming faster and the lane on the left slightly slower, before all coming to rest all over again.

     They sat for a moment in the motionless vehicle exchanging despondent looks, trying to muster up the enthusiasm to join another one-hour neighborhood. The weight of their hearts threatened to crush them alive in the stuffy car, the musky scent of nine days in the desert flooding their senses with flashes of memories from a week that could have lasted a lifetime. A week that _should_ have lasted a lifetime. A deck of tarot cards. A kite dancing across a dusky sky. A neon handprint splashed onto a bare chest. A note scrawled onto a strip of canvas. A tiny pink grenade. A hammock swaying in the wind. Friend. Brother. Soulmate. Lover.

     The men left the Cruiser behind yet again, seeking out another ephemeral community in a vain attempt at keeping their thoughts from suffocating them. They added their camping chairs into transient circles, graciously accepting slabs of watermelon and quickly offering up a few bandages to a set of scraped knuckles.

     And so it went. Another whistle. Another round of forced introductions and awkward handshakes. Another set of single-serving friends. The sun passed its apex, elongating shadows and offering the men a taste of relief from its dizzying rays at long last. Whistle. Start. Stop. Sun. Shade. Whistle. Start. Stop.

     Finally, _finally_ , the gates of Black Rock City were in view. The two men knew they’d be in the next wave to exit, and spent their last hour on the playa in the Cruiser with no company but the other. Seeing Link’s frayed nerves, Rhett had agreed to take the wheel for the first expanse of highway. The brunet settled into the passenger seat, his right arm hanging limply out the window and his backpack nestled between his feet. The blond stared unfocused at a dust devil spinning in the distance, his palms growing wet as his heart beat heavy with apprehension inside his chest. He gently shook himself out of his daze and fixed his eyes on his companion at his side. He searched the brunet’s shimmering eyes for _something_ , for any hint of reassurance that everything would be okay. Link ran a hand through his ruffled hair, his eyelids heavy with heartache. Rhett drew in a labored breath, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes, and with barely a hint of warning, his huge hand shot out and gripped the back of the brunet’s neck, pulling him in for a bruising kiss.

     Their desperate goodbyes were evident in their clashing tongues and fraught fingers, interweaving in hair and roaming across shoulders and down long, lanky arms. Their cheeks were wet and neither was sure whose tears were whose. They only knew each other in that instant, sure of nothing but the other’s concrete presence, the aching familiarity of one another’s skin. Their chests were stretched over the armrest between them, their hips twisted in the seats beneath them, their bodies yearning for a closeness that seemed impossible to give up.

     A whistle.

     “No,” Link pleaded against the blond’s lips. His hands clamped hard behind his lover’s head, unwilling to let go for another moment. “Not yet, please.” He dove in for another kiss, his heart pounding up into his throat. Their tongues pressed into each other, hot, wet, frantic, and frenzied, begging for just another minute— just one more minute.

     An impatient horn blew from behind them. Link hesitantly pulled himself away from the blond, leaning back into his seat, his hands balled into fists, wiping his eyes from behind foggy lenses. “You gotta drive, man.” Rhett sniffed hard and pressed into the gas, accelerating toward the open stretch of road ahead of them, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white.

     They passed through the gate, giving a half-hearted wave to the burners directing traffic. And that was that. Their tires caught a little as they made the transition from the bumpy, silty dirt of the playa onto smooth, dark pavement. Tears flowed freely down their faces, instantly homesick for the camp they’d left behind. Their chests heaved with laborious breaths, both men wishing they could control their gasping laments.

     It was fifteen miles before they’d regained their composure, staring blankly at the meandering road ahead, tears barely dry on their skin. The jagged hills of the Sierra Nevada looked serene and sapphire in the distance, speeding past their windows.

     “Hey Link,” Rhett said, his voice crackly in his throat. “Maybe— maybe we can do this again next year.” A small, sad smile dusted the brunet’s lips. He picked up his rucksack from between his feet, and reached his hand inside.  
     “Yeah,” Link replied. He laid a single, wrapped bandaid in the blond’s palm with care. Rhett’s huge fist clenched around it, pulling it up against his heart, a fresh set of tears spilling uncontrollably down his cheeks. Link sniffed too, his eyes brimming with moisture all over again. “Maybe next year.”

**Author's Note:**

>   
>   
>  [[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGKOCP4Ygsg)]
> 
>  
> 
> It’s over! I’d like to extend a huge THANK YOU to all the readers who have stuck with this fic even though I’ve been dragging my heels to finish it off. I started this story over 9 months ago, and it’s really been a rollercoaster of emotions for me to wrap this whole thing up. I’m honestly a little relieved to be finished and also a bit sad that the adventure is over. Again, thanks so much to everyone who’s left a comment, reblogged, liked or kudos’d this story, you’ve given me so much motivation with it, and this fic would definitely be in the unfinished fanfiction purgatory without you. I really, truly love you all!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [@ratchetrhink](http://ratchetrhink.tumblr.com)!


End file.
